


Enterprise Lost

by SteveWilson



Series: The Enterprise Trilogy [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Saavik & Christine Chapel, Saavik & Kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveWilson/pseuds/SteveWilson
Summary: Spock is dead, killed saving the Enterprise from the Genesis Wave during the battle with Khan. Life goes on for Kirk, Saavik and the crew of the reconditioned Enterprise. But a series of dreams tells Saavik that all is not as it should be. Spock is not dead. This Enterprise should not be here. And David, her beloved David, was not meant to live. This novel reconciles the alternate reality of ENTERPRISE REGAINED with the events of STAR TREK III.
Relationships: David Marcus/Saavik
Series: The Enterprise Trilogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657816
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

This work was originally published in 1985 as a standalone fanzine.

PROLOGUE

Admiral James T. Kirk, Saavik's captain of two weeks, was dead. He floated now before her, a lifeless shell surrounded by bright luminescence, which only accentuated the pallid, death-like tones on his face. He no longer moved and hadn't for quite some time. He had been murdered.

A cloud, a mass of non-corporeal energy—living all the same—had destroyed his mind, leaving him lifeless. At least, that was the way Saavik remembered it. But had the cloud been responsible? Had not James Kirk allowed himself to die? He had not fought back.

Or was he dead at all? No! What had made her think that? The cloud was not a murderer; it had merely been careless. Unknowing, it had separated Kirk's mind from his body; and, with Saavik's help, Kirk had reunited himself, mind and body. He lived again.

But why didn't he move? The light—the light of the cloud—surrounded his body as it floated, motionless in space. And then the cloud had form. It was alive and standing over him. It wasn't human or Vulcan, but it did have form.

And it breathed into James Kirk.

The body before her became animate. It stood and looked at her… and it smiled.

Jim Kirk smiled affectionately at her in thanks, his power of command and his confidence restored to him by her actions… and the cloud's. It had breathed life back into him.

The father became the son. James Kirk was suddenly David Marcus, and Saavik did not think to question the transformation. She rushed forward to take David's hand in hers. And an awful roar filled the air. What was it? Some kind of monster was hiding in the shadows. The same kind of monster, she was sure, that had haunted her childhood; but this one would not have two legs.

The cloud's light had faded around David, and now it shifted from yellow to green.

It was a deep, dark green, which caused fear to well up inside her. She did not question how a color could cause fear. It did, and that was enough.

Slowly, the green of a gaseous cloud became the green of a solid object. The monster was everything she had ever imagined a monster could be—when she had allowed herself to imagine at all. It was a dragon. From a rancid mouth full of yellow teeth, it spat fire at her and began to lumber forward on massive legs. She drew the phaser which hung at her belt, but she was not the dragon's target.

It advanced on David, obviously intending to devour him. Saavik aimed the phaser and prepared to fire, but David calmly held up his hand. As the animal drew closer, he smiled at it. One huge claw came down toward him. It would smash him as a human would an insect. Again Saavik raised her weapon, and again David gestured for her not to fire.

The hand of the dragon came down behind him and gently lifted him from the ground.

It looked at him with affection, and he reached out to pat its scaly flesh with one hand. The creature made a sound which resembled purring.

The dragon's tail drew up against its head, forming a ring. And tail and head melted together, becoming one. The whole of the animal's body melted into fluid. The greenish liquid flowed and began to form new shapes. Its green hue faded into all the colors in the spectrum, neglecting none.

Where the dragon had been was now a huge, ring-shaped object, some sort of gateway; Saavik knew that the dragon must be behind it, as must David. But the gateway was a closed one. In the center was an opening, roughly circular in configuration.

Through the opening was blackness and space, but not David. If she stepped through, she thought, she might then find something. Perhaps it was possible to see beyond the gateway only at its threshold. Saavik came closer, and now she saw that it wasn't empty after all. There was someone standing in it. She knew him, as well she should have.

He was the first being who had ever shown her kindness. She owed her existence to him.

Unbelieving, she called his name. "Spock?"

Spock was dead.

* * *

Saavik awoke to find herself sitting up in bed. She didn't often have nightmares, not that she would expect to. Nightmares were the product of anxiety and mental stress which formed in undisciplined minds, like the minds of humans.

And this had been a particularly harsh nightmare. Her hair was plastered to the back of her neck with sweat. In fact, her entire body was soaked in hot, sticky fluid. Her sheets and pillows were all on the floor—she had apparently thrown them there in her sleep.

As happened with all dreams, this one was fading from her memory even as she recovered from the trauma of awakening. As she pushed herself off the bed, still breathing heavily, she thought over what she could remember of it.

Kirk was not dead. That was clear to her now. And David was on Regula I continuing the research on his creation—the Genesis project.

But Spock was dead. Why had he been in her dream? Was she trying to fulfill some wish within her subconscious? Did some part of her still not accept the death of her teacher and friend even after six weeks? Perhaps not. Illogical as it was, she did wish that Spock still lived.

She wished she could tell him all she had learned. She wished he could have seen her when she used a mind-meld to enter James Kirk's subconscious and help him restore himself to full life. Spock had taught her everything she knew, but now others were teaching her as much. These past months she had learned of love and friendship, which Spock had not been prepared to teach her.

If only she could show him all of this. _You are being illogical,_ she reprimanded herself. _He is gone. Accept it._

Now composed, she tossed the wet sheets from her bed into the laundry chute on the wall and drew fresh ones from the closet. It would be a long day tomorrow. She had reports to complete and turn in to Commander Uhura, and she needed rest. But she did not sleep more than a few hours that night. Nor did she in the many nights that followed.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saavik's erratic behavior concerns her shipmates as she makes an incredible request of Admiral Kirk.

CHAPTER ONE

Jim Kirk tossed his report board and pen down on the desk and sat back, picking up the Saurian brandy he had poured earlier. No, that report wouldn't be written tonight. He was too tired. Taking a long drink, he pondered for a moment over the number of reports he had filled out and submitted to Starfleet Command in all his years. He couldn't count that high.

Somewhere, in a case of software buried deep in the bowels of Starfleet headquarters, were the complete files of the USS _Enterprise_ —no doubt untouched since the day they had been submitted. And _Enterprise_ was just one of hundreds of other ships, each of which took a week out every few months and had its poor, downtrodden senior officers fill out a set of reports on efficiency or the lack thereof. God, that storage room must have been a crowded place! He wondered if anyone at Fleet command could honestly explain to him the difference between that room and the station's waste disposal tanks.

Probably not.

But he hadn't been complaining, not one bit. This was the first time in ten years that he had filled out one of those mundane things which were the bane of every ship commander's existence, and he had enjoyed every minute of it. The Enterprise was coming to the end of its first thirty-day mission with Kirk in command, and naturally the bureaucrats at HQ wanted reports filed. After all, the ship was up for a new commander now.

Wouldn't they be surprised?

Jim couldn't wait to tell Harry Morrow (he had no intention of asking him) that he wanted _Enterprise_ back again, and that he would do everything in his power to get her. First, of course, Morrow would be shocked. Then he would explain the infeasibility of an Admiral returning to command after all these years. Then he would sigh and nod his approval. He knew that there was no stopping Jim Kirk better than did his predecessor, the stiff Admiral Nogura. Kirk would have his ship back once and for all.

Uhura had delivered her reports to Kirk already. She was starting early, as the first officer still had all the collected reports of the other departments to coordinate after she had finished with her own. Kirk still marveled at the efficiency all his execs —past and present—seemed to share. As he recalled, he had always recruited some poor junior officer—usually a female—to do the paperwork while he bitched about all his responsibilities; but _his_ execs took it all on and finished it on time without a word. Amazing! Of course, Spock had been a Vulcan; and Uhura… well, communications was her business.

The door chimed. He called, "Come," and Saavik entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Saavik," he said pleasantly. "I take it you've completed your reports?"

She hesitated for the briefest of moments before she replied. "Unfortunately, I have not, Admiral."

Strange, Saavik was the first one he would have expected to have the report completed and turned in. She was normally very efficient. _You're just reading too much of Spock into her, Jim,_ he told himself. _She's not Spock._ "I see. Well, there's still plenty of time."

"Yes, sir, I realize that." She did not seem to be comforted any by this thought, though; and she still stood very stiffly—even for a Vulcan—in front of him.

"Mr. Saavik, in order to save us both the redundancy of a formal request, may I assume that you are about to ask my permission to speak candidly?"

"You may, Admiral."

"Permission granted. Shoot."

She raised an eyebrow at this expression, but Kirk was happy to see that she didn't ask him about it. "I'm afraid I need a favor."

"A favor?"

She nodded abruptly. Vulcans did not enjoy asking personal favors—it was somehow undignified. Her reticence was not unusual. Spock, also, had always been unwilling to speak openly of such matters—even with his best friend.

"Perhaps you'd better explain."

"You are familiar with the Guardian of Forever?" Kirk's jaw dropped. Yes, he knew of the Guardian. He had been one of the ones who had discovered it fifteen years ago… he didn't like to think of that particular incident too much. Thoughts of Edith Keeler still brought him pain. just as thoughts of Spock did—even more so.

He said quietly, "I know of it. How do you?"

"That is," she told him, "not important."

"And what is?"

"I must go there," she responded instantly.

Kirk waited for a moment after this announcement, expecting it to be followed by an explanation; but it wasn't. "Why?"

Now she was speechless. A request to go to the Guardian? Surely she had a good reason. Then why didn't she just say what it was? "It's difficult to explain." she finally managed.

"Try me."

"I would… I would rather not." She was quiet a moment and then she straightened and said decidedly. "Sir, I realize that this a rather… unorthodox request—"

"Unorthodox? It's unheard of! Lieutenant, junior officers are not allowed to visit the Guardian. If you do know of it, you must know that. Even senior officers can only visit under extraordinary circumstances."

"I did not know that. Admiral. However, I must go there."

"And you can't tell me why?"

"It is necessary. I must ask you to trust that that is the truth."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Saavik. I'd like to oblige. but the paperwork alone before I could take the ship there… not to mention explaining to Harry Morrow

that I don't know why I want to go… " He sighed. "The Time Planet is one of the most sensitive areas of the Federation. Most of StarFleet doesn't have any idea it even exists, much less the population at large. It's a heavily classified subject. After all, if the Klingons were to find out about it—"

"I am aware of that, Admiral. I assure you that my knowledge of it will not spread."

"I wasn't suggesting that it would. Your security rating does allow you knowledge of the Time Planet, but I can't get you there. Especially without a reason."

Saavik stood still for a moment, marshaling her energies. She was obviously having a difficult time discussing this. "James," she said quietly, her voice now less controlled, "you and I have shared one mind. You surely understand the importance of that sharing, and you must know that it is almost impossible to hide anything within the meld. You know me well, now—as well as Spock did. You know that I would not be dishonest with you."

"Yes."

"Then trust me when I tell you that I do have a good reason for making such a request. I would not do so lightly." Her control was faltering. He had seen her display emotion before, but only superficially. It was still difficult for her to reveal her true feelings, especially when it came to the mind meld they had shared weeks ago. It seemed to make her very uncomfortable.

He reached across the table and touched her hand lightly, afraid that she might draw back. When she did not, he clasped it tightly in his own. "I know you wouldn't, Saavik. It's not a matter of my trust in you. It's a matter of explaining all this to Starfleet command. I can't ask for something like this without a good reason." He gripped her hand even harder, saying sympathetically, "If you have a problem, tell me about it. I'll help in any way I can. You believe that, don't you?"

"Yes," she said expressionlessly. "But I… cannot explain."

"Then I can't help," he said, hoping the finality in his tone would evoke a positive response.

It didn't. Saavik withdrew her hand and backed away. "Very well," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Admiral." Kirk tried as she headed for the door to think of something to say to make her come back and level with him.

He thought of nothing.

After she had gone, he sat back and considered what she had said, and her reaction to his refusal. Had she been angry? Saavik was hard to read, but he didn't think so. He _had_ sensed disappointment, but surely she had expected his answer to be no.

Strange behavior. Very strange, especially from a Vulcan. What reason could she possibly have for wanting to go to the Time Planet? And why had she been so formal? Oh, she was always rather proper—she was Spock's student, after all—but recently she had learned to be more comfortable around Kirk. Why change now?

 _Well_ , he thought, I’ll talk to her again later. Maybe after she’s had time to think she'll be willing to explain. He looked again at the report board in front of him. Why wasn't life on a starship ever as simple and concise as those damn things always wound up making them seem?

* * *

Christine Chapel approached the door and pressed its buzzer with unnecessary force. She was upset, and it was time she talked to McCoy about it. At first, she had not thought Saavik's increasing irritability worth mentioning—it could be only her imagination, after all—but after tonight… Entering on McCoy's call, she found her colleague seated at his desk, glass in hand. Kirk sat across from him, similarly equipped.

Not wanting to violate the sanctity of the captain/chief surgeon nightly discussion, Christine said apologetically, "I didn't know you were busy, I'll come back later."

McCoy set his drink on the desk and pointed to a chair. "Please, Chris, stay."

Once she was seated, he offered her a brandy—which she accepted with more fervor than she cared to think about. "I assume you came to talk about Saavik?"

Shocked, she stammered, "I—I—how did you know?"

McCoy grinned ironically. "Just a hunch."

"In fact," Kirk said, "we were just talking about her ourselves. Have you noticed any strange behavior from her lately?'"

"Very strange. That's why I came here. We were having dinner just now—Saavik, Uhura and I—and Saavik… well, she seemed extremely irritable. And when I tried to question her, she became… _defensive,_ I suppose. She left—she seemed calm enough—but I could tell something was really upsetting her. I've never seen her act this way before."

McCoy nodded. "For a Vulcan, that little lady's got quite a temper."

"She's got it, yes," Kirk agreed, "but normally she controls it very well. And temper had nothing to do with the request she made this evening."

"What request?" Christine asked.

Kirk put down his drink and explained. "Saavik came to me a few hours ago and said she had to ask a favor."

"That's damn funny right there," McCoy observed.

"Yeah. And the favor… she wanted me to take her to the Guardian of Forever."

"And that's a helluva favor for anyone to be askin'," McCoy added.

Christine shook her head in disbelief, murmuring, "But she must have had a reason."

"She claimed she couldn't tell me what it was." Kirk thought for a moment and looked at Christine. "Doctor, you've spent quite a bit of time with her lately. Can you think of anything that might explain this?"

She cringed at the reference to her friendship with Saavik. She knew that others thought that she had latched onto the girl simply as a replacement in her affection for Spock, but she had not. Christine genuinely liked the young lieutenant. In some ways, bizarre as the comparison sounded, the girl reminded her of herself. Both of them had lived through tragic pasts, and both grieved bitterly—although Saavik tried not to show it—over the death of Spock. The companionship had helped them both through a difficult time.

At least she thought it had. "I'm afraid I don't, Admiral. She seems to have handled Spock's death well—at least as well as any of the rest of us—and aside from that… " she shrugged.

Kirk looked thoughtful. "When that cloud creature took over both our minds, Saavik put herself under tremendous strain to help me free myself. I wonder, could that have had any adverse effects on her mind?"

McCoy shook his head. "Now, Jim, you know that Chris and I ran a thorough psych-exam on both of you right after you came outta… well, whatever you call that godforsaken state you were in. You both checked out fine. In fact, if anybody underwent psychic strain it was _you_. Saavik's the one who's trained—"

"And Saavik's the one who's been behaving oddly, Doctor," Kirk interrupted. "Couldn't there be some sort of delayed reaction?"

McCoy conceded hesitantly. "I suppose so, but—"

"Can you check it somehow?"

"We could run another exam," Chris volunteered.

Kirk nodded triumphantly and said, "Do it."

"All right," McCoy said" "I'll prepare the equipment and run her through tomorrow."

"No, Leonard," Christine broke in. "I'll do it." When both men glanced at her, she explained, "I think it might be easier that way."

Both nodded agreement, and McCoy added, "And I think we'd better check you out too, Jim. Just in case."

Kirk looked sharply at him. "I haven't experienced any ill effects."

"That's not the point," McCoy explained. "we don't know what we're dealing with here."

"Saavik would probably feel the effects first, as a telepath," Christine pointed out. "But if something went wrong with the meld, you might feel them, sooner or later."

Kirk sighed. "If you think it's that important—"

"I do," McCoy replied. "If whatever it is affects Saavik this way, I'd hate to see what it'd do to you."

Kirk grimaced. "Let's hope we don't find out."

* * *

His last report completed, Terry Metcalfe wandered out his door and into the corridor, stretching elaborately and blinking his tired eyes. Four hours in front of a computer screen was not good for one's vision, but such was the penalty of doing all of the work in one night. Actually, he had three days left before the report was to be filed with Admiral Kirk; but Terry detested this part of his responsibilities as chief helmsman of a starship. He didn't want to spend more than one night working at his desk.

It was 0100 hours now, but the rec-room would no doubt still be awake—it always was. At the last door before the turbo-lift, he stopped, wondering if Saavik, too, might still be awake. Although he also wanted to be with Angela Teller, she was still working on her own departmental reports; and as science officer she had significantly more to do than Terry did.

The last few weeks aboard had gone well for both himself and Angela. Since the first day of the voyage and the excitement it contained, all had gone quietly, and they had had time to come to know each other in a more than friendly way. Despite her seniority in both age and rank, he and Angela were quite compatible. Their relationship balanced itself well between business and pleasure, with neither of them demanding too much of the other or getting in the way on the bridge.

Of course, Angela had learned a great deal already of the intricacies of love, having had two contract marriages—and almost having had a traditional one. Traditional marriages were increasingly rare in the galaxy at large. On Earth they were still prevalent—Earthers didn't easily relinquish their customs—but elsewhere they didn't occur as often. Few people pledged themselves to one individual for life. More commonly, men and women found themselves coming together into loosely organized family groupings. These were ideal for Starfleet officers, as they allowed the various members freedom to come and go for indefinite periods of time. No formal contract held such groups together—though that would probably come with time—but a sense of fraternal ties and shared affection.

That was the common practice in Starfleet, but sometimes a man or woman would meet one person with whom they wanted to share an entire life—not just a set period of time written in a contract. Angela had once met someone like that, and his memory was the one blotch of sadness on an otherwise happy past. Her fiancé, Robert Tomlinson, had been the only victim of the only conflict between Federation and Romulan Empire forces in a hundred years.

Tomlinson had been dead for fifteen years, but Angela had met no one else to take his place in that time. She had engaged in many contracts and many short affairs, but Terry wondered if perhaps that one experience had scared her away from commitments.

And Terry himself? He had never been much for commitments. His past relationships had been brief, playful—generally more friendly than romantic—and he was starting to wonder if there _was_ one person he could give an entire lifetime to.

Angela was understanding and perceptive; she knew what he needed and gave it without drowning him in the empty displays of affection that some women relied on as the entire basis for a relationship. She knew the times when a simple touch—or none at all—had more meaning than an entire night in bed. She also knew the times when an entire night could be well spent. He was simply happy with her. And for Terry, that was definition enough for love.

But then there was Saavik. Angela relaxed him, pleasured him, and made him feel satisfied with the universe in general. Saavik, on the other hand, challenged him with her elusiveness, excited him, made him feel… alive.

And yet, though she knew he was attracted to Saavik, Angela did not object to his friendship with the young Vulcan. Love, for her, did not seem to include any sense of exclusive possession. That they had each other right now was enough for her. And if his feelings for Saavik should become stronger? Terry had heard often since leaving Earth that genuine love need not be limited to one person. Perhaps it was true.

Now, if Saavik were only still awake, perhaps he could talk her into coming to the rec-room. He pressed the door buzzer and waited expectantly for the voice from within, but none came. Where could she be? She had said earlier that she would be spending the evening completing the navigational reports. He buzzed again, but still received no response.

Perhaps the door was on privacy lock, in which case he could hear nothing from within. Of course, Vulcans rarely, if ever, locked their doors. It was possible that she just didn't want her work disturbed. He turned to leave.

As he did, a sound finally came from the other side of the door, but it wasn't an acknowledgement. It was a scream—Saavik's. His heart racing at the thought of what might make a Vulcan scream, Terry rushed to the door, which couldn't be on privacy lock as he had heard the scream through it. But it was locked to outside entry—still odd for a Vulcan's door—and refused to open when he approached.

Keying the computer access panel on the wall, he gave his personal code and ordered a command override on the lock, cursing the machine for the slight delay it presented. Hearing the sequence, the computer freed the doors and they flashed open. The doorway was not dark as he might have expected. The lights were on inside, and the room appeared as it normally did. The desk was cluttered, the walls were rather plain, the tape reader was drowning beneath the cassettes stacked on top of it. Only one thing was different:

Saavik was in a half-seated position on the bed, sweating, breathing heavily, her uniform rumpled and damp.

As a matter of fact, while her uniform was occasionally less than well-pressed—though not often slept in—she never sweated. Vulcans didn't generally sweat much in the cold climate humans enjoyed. What could have caused that? And why was she… trembling?

"Saavik? You okay?"

For a moment, she didn't seem to recognize him, looking up with dull eyes obscured behind matted hair. Then she whispered, "Terry," as if asking confirmation. He found himself nodding instinctively.

"That must have been a helluva nightmare," he observed as he knelt on the floor next to her.

Saavik brushed her hair from her eyes and made an attempt to control her breathing.

"Yes… it was. It was very—"

"Real?" He grinned. "They usually are." After letting her compose herself for a moment, he explained. "I came by to ask if you wanted to go get a drink in the rec lounge, and I heard you scream."

"I screamed?" she asked, a trifle unsettled.

Terry couldn't help a slight laugh. "Yeah, judging by the state you're in. that's perfectly understandable."

She said nothing more. Apparently having recovered from the emotional effects of the dream. she seemed to be analyzing what he had said. Well, for her, that was normal. "Why don't you get some rest? You've been working hard."

Before he could stand, she put her hand on his shoulder. Was it just her natural strength that made her grip so hard, or was that gesture a trifle frantic? "No." She said. "I—I believe I would like to go to the lounge for a time. I'm… rather hot."

"Okay," he said quietly, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. She was still acting shaken as she stood and went to the bathroom to change her uniform and wash up. As he waited for her, Terry went to the computer terminal on her desk, which he noticed was still lit. As he reached to turn it off, his eye caught what was printed there: the periodic navigation report—only half-completed. Had Saavik actually fallen asleep in the middle of an assignment? He found that hard to believe.

The door buzzer sounded again. Seeing that Saavik was still busy, Terry called, "Come."

Christine Chapel entered. She smiled at him somewhat stiffly. "Hi, Terry. I'm, ah… " she looked around the room. "I'm looking for Saavik."

He nodded to the door. "She's changing."

The door slid open, and Saavik emerged, her hair still wet. She was combing it as she walked. Terry smiled at the sight of a Vulcan doing anything so mundane as combing her hair.

But Christine was not amused by the young woman's condition. She rushed immediately to her side. "Saavik, what's wrong?"

Saavik made an attempt vaguely reminiscent of someone trying to look innocent, and then gave up. Vulcans were lousy liars—and worse actors. "I had a nightmare, Christine, you needn't be alarmed."

The doctor grimaced. "I'm afraid I don't agree. I'm very alarmed." She gestured to Saavik's face. "You look terrible! And you've been sweating. Tell me, just how much energy does it take for a Vulcan to expend before she sweats in this kind of temperature?"

Saavik raised her eyebrow and made a quick calculation. "I would estimate a rate of—"

"I don't need to know," Chris interrupted. "It's a lot. I want you to come to sickbay right now."

Saavik showed no visible reaction to that, but Terry was a bit astounded. He was worried about her too, but it _was_ only a dream, after all. Much as he hated to interfere, he began to speak; but Saavik beat him to the punch.

"I believe you are overreacting, Christine. A nightmare is a normal phenomenon—even in Vulcans. I hardly feel an examination to be in order."

"Fortunately," Christine said with a touch of irony, "that isn't for you to decide."

Her expression softened. "Saavik, you've only just recently been through a harrowing mental experience—"

"If you are referring to my mind meld with the Admiral, I must remind you that we both found it quite beneficial."

"I realize that, but it was still a great strain for you, and it could have delayed effects."

"I doubt it."

"Saavik," she said with an impatient sigh, "please just let me do my job."

Saavik quietly gave in and left with the doctor. Terry followed them out, keeping a close eye on both women. Saavik still appeared shaken, and Christine was more upset than he had ever seen her. Was there more to this than just a simple nightmare? As he thought it all over, a chilling question reappeared in his mind.

_What could make a Vulcan scream?_


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chekov and Uhura trace a phantom distress call. At the Guardian of Forever, Saavik and McCoy learn that the events they've lived these last few months unfolded very differently in another time, another place.

CHAPTER TWO

Pavel Chekov was seated at a table in the back of the lounge, looking quite haggard, when Scotty came in. In front of him was a huge stack of tapes. He exhaled heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and inserted one of them into the viewer.

After stopping to order a glass of scotch from the selector, Scotty went to join him. "Whot are ye up to here, lad?"

Pavel looked up with a frown. "I em going through the log tapes—or helf of them, if you believe thet—for Uhura. The executive reports hev to be ready tomorrow, and she's supposed to review all the logs. She got me to do these," he explained, his frown growing more pronounced.

Scotty swallowed a sip of his drink and laughed. "When I was second officer, Spock took care of all thot."

Popping another tape into the viewer, Chekov said, "I suppose thet's vhy you wanted me to hev the job?"

Before Scotty could reply, Chekov began to babble in Russian. He lapsed back into standard only after Scotty had grabbed his arm and exclaimed, "I dinna know what ye're sayin', lad!"

"Listen to this," the second officer replied in standard, rewinding the tape and keying it to play back what had caused the flow of incomprehensible words in the first place.

One of the standard ship-to-ship hails came through, followed by a faintly accented male voice repeating, "USS _Phoenix_ calling _Enterprise_... Do you read? Come in, _Enterprise_. This is USS _Phoenix_."

"So?" Scotty shrugged.

Chekov glared at him as if he were quite dense. "Ve received no such signal. This was trensmitted while ve were orbiting Genesis. There vere no other ships in the area et thet time."

"Uhura probably just skipped over it," he said. "It wasna'… it was nae a good day." He was quiet for a moment as the painful memories of the funeral services struck him again—the services for his friend and his nephew.

But Chekov shook his head insistently. "The coordinates listed here place them in the immediate vicinity of Genesis itself. We vould hev seen them. Besides, _Phoenix_ hes been in Spacedock since Sulu brought her beck three months ago. She's undergoing overhaul. There is no way thet she could hev been in space et all."

True, it was an oddity. Now that Pavel reminded him, he knew that _Phoenix_ could not have been the source of such a message. Still, he didn't tend to get overly worried about what was probably a prank of one of the junior officers trying to make trouble. "Well," he said, taking a long drink, "report it t'th'Admiral if ye like. I'm sure it's nothin'."

* * *

The collection of figures on the screen in front of him made little sense to Kirk, but he nodded along with McCoy as Chris Chapel explained them and took her word for what they meant. He wasn't liking what he heard. This particular set of data was the outcome of the psych-exam that Chapel had run on Saavik yesterday.

McCoy, who did understand the data, was even less happy. "She's under a terrific amount of mental strain," he said worriedly. "No doubt the cause of her irritability."

"And her nightmares," Christine added. "I discovered that the last one was only one in a series. She refuses to tell me what they were about."

"Maybe she doesn't remember," Kirk suggested.

"Or maybe she doesn't _want_ to," Chris said gravely. "At any rate, I can't find any possible cause for the stress itself. As I thought, she's recovered well from the deaths of Spock and Peter Preston. The data backs that up. None of her problems seem to be linked to Spock in any specific way, although she does seem a little uncomfortable discussing him."

"I suppose that's to be expected," Kirk said quietly. He had been uncomfortable with discussing Spock during the exam, too; but McCoy assured him that his exam had come out normally.

"There were two other topics which caused interesting reactions." She pointed at two numbers on the screen. "When I asked her about the Guardian of Forever, the computer registered quite a jump in stress ratings—far above the normal level. And when I mentioned David—"

Kirk looked up sharply, "My son?"

She nodded. "She seems quite sensitive to any talk of him."

Kirk couldn't help smiling. To think that his son could produce such a reaction even in a Vulcan… but they had serious matters to attend to. "Recommendations?" he asked. "We do have a month's stopover on Earth coming up. Would shore leave help any?"

"Not enough, I'm afraid," Christine replied. "Frankly, I'm not sure what would help."

McCoy smiled without humor. "Perhaps a trip to the source of her anxiety."

"The Guardian?" Christine asked doubtfully.

Kirk shook his head. "Bones, you know that's impossible. She's a junior officer."

"But you could push it through, Jim."

"Of course I could. And then what? What do you propose to do once you've got her there?"

McCoy looked slightly irritated. "Well, if you've got a better idea, tell us. I don't know what would happen either, Jim; but it's the only lead we've got, and I think we oughtta follow up on it."

"I _would_ recommend it, sir," Chris said.

Kirk sighed. "As if I don't have enough paperwork to worry about." He sighed again. "All right, Doctors, you win. I'll call Admiral Morrow and get clearance and we'll be underway by—"

The door buzzer interrupted him. When he answered, Pavel Chekov came in. In keeping with the mood of the room, the second officer didn't look happy either.

"Can I do something for you, Mr. Chekov?" Kirk asked a trifle abruptly.

Pavel ignored his tone. He obviously had a problem on his mind as well. "I'd like you to hev a look at this, Edmiral," he said, holding out a tape.

"What is it?"

"I was going through the log tapes," Chekov explained, dashing Kirk's illusions about Uhura's superhuman executive abilities into space. She _had_ recruited someone else to help with the paperwork. Chekov went on. "End I found an entry in this one regarding a signal the ship received while we were orbiting Genesis—from the _Phoenix_ —"

" _Phoenix_ was in dry-dock," Kirk said automatically.

"Exactly, sair. Not only didn't we hev any other knowledge of receiving the signal, but it never could hev been sent in the first place—et least not by _Phoenix_. If she hed sent the signal, she would hev been in the immediate vicinity of Genesis, which is impossible. "

"Agreed," Kirk said, "but the signal is there."

"Play it for yourself, Edmiral," Chekov said, offering him the tape.

"I'll take your word for it." He sighed a third time. "I don't suppose we'll find it in Uhura's communications log, either. Have her come to my quarters when you find her, Pavel, but… " he shook his head fiercely. "Tell her not to hurry."

Nodding grim understanding, Chekov left. McCoy grinned at Kirk. "Would you like a drink, Jim?"

"I would," Kirk said. "But I won't. The way this day has been going so far, I think I'll need a sober mind to handle the rest of it."

* * *

"Admiral, if we had received that signal, you would have heard—"

"We _did_ receive that signal, Commander," Kirk reminded her. "It's in the computer log."

Uhura sighed in exasperation. "Well, it's not in _my_ log; and if it had been acknowledged—"

"It was."

"Then it should be in my log." She gestured at the display on his screen. "You can see that it isn't."

Kirk snapped the viewer off and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with a finger and a thumb. "All right, Uhura. Isn't it possible that you just overlooked it? It was a bad day."

She shrugged. "I suppose anything's possible, but… I've never missed a signal before."

Kirk spread his hands. “Well, it wouldn't ordinarily be important, but this signal could never have been sent. It's a fake, and I want to know who faked it."

"I could order an investigation. One of our new officers probably—"

He cut her off with a wave. "No, not now. We have more important things to worry about."

"Saavik?" Uhura asked, well aware of what his answer would be.

"Saavik. McCoy and Chapel want me to take her to the Time Planet."

Uhura's reaction was automatic. She stated the obvious. "But it's off limits to her."

This Kirk, of course, knew. "And I told them that—and Saavik when she put in the request—but their advice was that it was best for her—"

"And just try to talk Len and Chris down when they think they're standing up for their patient's best interests," she finished sympathetically. "Welcome back to the grind, Captain."

Finally, he laughed. He had been trying to be severe with her about the matter of the mysterious signal, but ne was obviously feeling somewhat trod upon with the medical officers overruling his decisions. "I suppose I shouldn't complain. It's just that the paperwork has been getting a little heavy."

"Tell me about it," she laughed. "I've had no off-duty time for the past week."

"And it doesn't look like we'll be having much in the near future, either. A trip to the Time Planet…"

Uhura merely nodded and said quietly, "Thank the gods for shore leave." It was the only light comment she could think of. She had been on the Time Planet fifteen years ago when Kirk, Spock and McCoy had returned from their mission to correct the past.

Kirk hadn't been quite the same since. Something had happened, something very painful. She had never found out what, but she had understood the pain for what it was and tried to be sympathetic. The only other time she had seen such pain in Kirk's eyes was weeks ago, when Spock had died. Seeing him after the funeral and through their month's leave afterward, she felt her suspicions were confirmed that Kirk had lost someone he loved in those two minutes he'd been gone from the Guardian, someone he loved as much as he did Spock.

Kirk broke her silence by bringing up more business. "I'll need a channel through to Starfleet Command as soon as possible—if you can take the time out from the reports."

"I'm not sure I can, actually, but I'll have M'saar get right to it." She smiled teasingly and said, "Good luck with Morrow. I'll be in my quarters with the last of the reports."

"Thanks," Kirk replied. "But have M'saar call me in McCoy's office. I'll be there for the next few hours." He'd decided to have that drink after all.

* * *

The _Enterprise_ was only hours from the Time Planet when Saavik came to McCoy's office. She stood silently in the door until he looked up from his desk. "Hello, Lieutenant. Can I help you?"

Saavik came forward and sat opposite him, saying seriously, "Indeed you can, Doctor, you can cooperate with me."

"Seems to me I've been doin' that so far," McCoy observed. The young woman was acting mysteriously lately, _very_ mysteriously. He was hoping he would soon find out why.

"Agreed, but I must ask you to do so further."

Something big was coming. _Watch what you're getting into, Bones. Sounds like some request she's makin'._ "What exactly are you talking about?"

"I take it you have heard of Commander Chekov's discrepancy?"

He stifled a laugh. "And heard and heard. Jim talked a lot about it the other day. 'Course he didn't seem too worried about it. He had other concerns."

"Other concerns?"

"Uh huh. You, for instance, Lieutenant."

Saavik's face registered surprise; she was the picture of innocence. "Me?"

McCoy nodded and asked, "Is there some reason why you've been acting up lately?"

"'Acting up?'"

"Earth expression," he explained. "Means behaving strangely. Well?"

"Indeed there is a reason, Doctor; and I believe you will find it a sound one. But in order for me to explain it, I must have your full cooperation."

McCoy wondered if he would really find this reason she was bargaining off a sound one, but said anyway, "All right, shoot."

Saavik's eyebrow raised momentarily. "I take it that is another Earth expression. I have heard it before and surmised that it indicates for the speaker to proceed. Is my definition accurate?"

"Beautiful."

Saavik nodded and began her explanation. "The discrepancy which has been so troubling Mr. Chekov is one of the symptoms of a problem which I need your help in solving. It involves the use of this 'Guardian of Forever' we are approaching. If you will accompany me to the surface when I go, your questions will be answered. But only _you_ must come with me. We must allow no one else—"

"No one else? What about Jim?"

She repeated, "No one., Doctor."

 _Why you ungrateful pointed-eared brat!_ "Young lady," McCoy demanded, enraged, "do you know what Jim went through to get you permission to go to that planet? You're not even a senior officer! Ordinarily, you wouldn't be allowed to set one foot on that planet's surface. If Jim hadn't put in a special request, this little party of yours—"

"Party? I assure you, Doctor," she said seriously, "recreation is the farthest thing from my mind."

"That's not what I meant, dammit! I meant Jim Kirk's stickin' his neck out for you, and you haven't even got the common decency—"

"I believe I understand the source of your anger, Doctor," Saavik interrupted.

McCoy found himself speechless. For some reason, he couldn't decide if that was the stupidest thing he'd heard all week, or the most intelligent. "Thank God for small miracles."

Saavik ignored the sarcasm in his voice and explained calmly, "You misinterpret

my intentions, Doctor. I am not motivated by ingratitude. On the contrary, it is for the Admiral's own protection that I wish him to remain behind." She looked at him with great sincerity, the Vulcan equivalent of pleading. "You must find some way of convincing him to humor us without arousing his suspicions. I suspect that, if he knew the truth, he would insist on accompanying us."

McCoy was astounded. Maybe the girl _was_ crazy. "That he would, Lieutanant. And he may anyway. Would you mind telling me what kind of danger he's in?"

"He is not in any danger in the physical sense, Doctor. This danger is of a more subtle nature. If you refuse to accompany me and keep the Admiral away, the consequences will not be immediately recognizable, but they will be most grave. Aside from this, I must tell you nothing until we have seen the Guardian. In fact, I cannot."

McCoy shook his head. "Well, that's not a helluva convincing story, I must say."

Saavik met his eyes. "I must ask you to trust me, Doctor," she paused for a painful moment and added, "Please."

Of all the crazy stories he had ever heard in his life! And this from a Vulcan!

Had she just lost her mind? _You're a trained psychologist, Doctor, has she?_

No.

He couldn't believe that the woman in front of him, alien or not, was either lying or insane. Something was going on in her head. "All right," he grumbled. "What the hell?"

* * *

Loaded down in their full gear, Saavik and McCoy were preparing to beam down to the Guardian of Forever. They were clunking about with their instruments from under heavy uniform coats—it was the Time Planet's winter. Odd, Kirk thought as he entered the room, that a planet so seemingly dead would still correspond to the normal shifts in climate expected of a living world.

He had considered bringing along an entire scientific detachment—after all, he had had to put a lot of effort into getting permission to come here, they might as well make the most of it—but their primary mission was to observe Saavik and help her if they could. So they went alone, practicality notwithstanding.

Still, not to take advantage of such an opportunity was regrettable. Kirk had spent two hours arguing with Harry Morrow in order to get permission to bring the _Enterprise_ here. The Commander of all Starfleet found it hard to swallow that taking a disturbed junior officer to a strictly off-limits and top secret planet was in any way advisable; but Kirk had gotten his okay after a little fancy diplomatic footwork. In fact, it hadn't been as difficult as it might have been. Kirk had at least expected Morrow to ask for a few days to think about it. And he had thought it completely within the realm of possibility that Morrow would turn him down outright.

In the end, though, after Kirk had explained the situation twice carefully, it had been a simple matter of saying "please." The Admiral had given in and warned him unnecessarily that, should anything go wrong, Kirk would be held responsible and so on and so on. All of these things made Harry seem a trifle unsure of himself, but perhaps he just had other things on his mind.

"Well," Kirk asked the two well-wrapped officers in front of him, "are we ready?"

Instead of the simple, expected, "Yes, sir," he was met with uncertainty. Saavik's face was blank, and McCoy bit his lip and stared at her as if asking for orders.

Saavik spoke. "Admiral, would it be possible for the Doctor and myself to beam down to the surface alone?"

Kirk was too shocked to say anything. Her request, of course, warranted only a "Hell, no!" but Kirk couldn't even manage that. Finally, he asked stupidly, "What?"

Saavik coolly repeated herself. "I said—"

"I _heard_ what you said, Lieutenant," Kirk interrupted, his voice now recovered. "I want to know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Jim," McCoy said, obviously hoping to quiet him down. The Doctor waited until Kirk met his gaze and then beckoned him to a corner of the room. "Jim," he whispered, "maybe it would be better if you'd humor her. It's not really important, is it?"

" _OF COURSE_ ," Kirk began loudly, then quieted himself at a nasty glance from McCoy. "Of course it's important, Bones," he said as calmly as he could, his voice still shaking a bit. "She can't go down there without a senior officer to escort her."

McCoy looked offended. "Well, what am I," he whispered angrily, "a damn first-year cadet?"

Kirk said gently, "C'mon, Bones, you're a doctor, not a—"

"I'm carin' for a damned patient!" McCoy growled, not appreciating Kirk's attempt at humor. "She's asked me to go, an' right now, I think the best thing to do is to humor her." McCoy paused as he noticed the transporter technicians staring at himself and the Captain. He smiled and said in his best southern drawl, "C'mon, Jim. I'll look after her. Ya ever known me to let a lady down?"

"Bones," Kirk began.

"Now who's the psychologist here, you or me?" McCoy grinned infectiously and Kirk felt himself giving way.

"Look, Bones," he said in a last-ditch attempt to assert his vanishing authority, "I'm the one who has to answer to Morrow if anything goes wrong down there. How do you know Saavik won't pull anything, in the state she's in?"

McCoy shrugged. "I doubt she would. She's too honest—damn Vulcan! 'Sides, Jim, have I ever let _you_ down?" As Kirk's mouth opened, he said immediately, "Don't answer that!"

Kirk smiled and sighed. "All right, Bones. Have it your way. But… _please be careful_!"

McCoy, grinning triumphantly, trotted to the platform and said, "I always am!" He gave the Admiral a playful wink as the technician energized the transporter and he and Saavik faded out of existence.

 _Of course they'll be all right_ , Kirk told himself. _Bones wouldn't let her get in trouble_. But why had McCoy insisted they go alone? For Saavik's sake? When did he and Saavik become so friendly? And why had Saavik asked for all this in the first place? Despite the casual grin which lingered on his face, Jim's gut tightened with anger at the thought that his officers were hiding something from him.

* * *

As the crisp, cold air of the Time Planet came into being around her, Saavik hugged herself instinctively. She hated cold and had since she had lived in the ruins of Hellguard. Winters there had been as brutal as the planet's Romulan inhabitants. Her normal climate, that of Vulcan, was almost five times as hot as this one.

The ground was hard beneath her feet. It was below freezing here. At least it wasn't snowing at the moment. Several meters away was the image from her dream; the large, ring-like object within which she'd seen Spock's face every time she'd gone to sleep these past few weeks.

"There it is," McCoy said as they began walking toward the object. "The Guardian of Forever."

"Yes," she agreed. "I recognize it."

"How the hell could you recognize it?" McCoy demanded with an arched eyebrow. He didn't know anything of the dream, of course. Saavik had not discussed it with anyone except Christine, and she had told her very little.

"I… have studied it," she said quickly. "But that is irrelevant. We came here to speak with it."

"Just what is it you expect to learn?"

"I do not know," she replied, knowing full well that this answer would astound him. Unfortunately, she couldn't explain any better. She really _didn't_ know what the Guardian would say to them—only what the dream had told her: they were in danger, Kirk was in danger…

In front of them, the darkish-beige ring of the Guardian began to glow in myriad colors and a gaseous mass filled its center. "Greetings, Saavik and McCoy," its booming voice said.

McCoy looked surprised. "It's been expecting us."

"Yes, of course," the machine/being replied. "For quite some time. Now, please give your attention to me. There is much you must learn before I can answer your questions."

"Questions like 'why was I dragged here?'" McCoy demanded.

"All will be explained," it promised. "Be silent now, and watch."

Surprisingly, the Doctor did so. Saavik had had her doubts as to whether or not he would. The center of the Guardian flashed to life, presenting a clear image to them. The picture was quite recognizable. It was the _Enterprise_ , orbiting David Marcus's magnificent new-born Genesis planet. From out of the torpedo bay at its center shot a red, glowing object which spiraled in toward the surface of the new world. Saavik recognized it, as the doctor surely did too. It was the torpedo tube which bore Spock's lifeless body to its final resting place on Genesis.

"Why are we seeing this?" McCoy asked irritably.

"Silence," ordered the Guardian sternly.

McCoy grumpily shut up and watched. As the picture followed the tube from its launch to a soft landing, intact, on the surface of Genesis, he gave a short intake of breath, but said nothing. They watched quietly as the ship prepared to leave orbit and go to Ceti Alpha V. They watched it pull up instead beside the huge Regula I research station and saw the scene shift to show Carol Marcus and Christine Chapel beam down to the station.

McCoy could hold his questions no longer. "What the hell is this? We didn't leave that quickly! We stayed at Genesis for another week! And Chris didn't stay on Regula, David and Carol did!"

Saavik, too, was puzzled; but she contented herself to watch the images the Guardian was presenting and try and learn from them. The time for questions would come later. As neither she nor the Guardian took the time to answer McCoy's frantic inquiries, he fell silent again.

As the Guardian image showed Saavik herself accompanying David aboard the scout USS _Grissom,_ she realized that her own eyes were growing as wide with wonder as the Doctor's. Both were speechless as the events in the Guardian continued to unfold, showing the story of an _Enterprise_ which was not theirs, an _Enterprise_ cast aside in dishonor by Starfleet and stolen by her former crew in a desperate attempt to recover Spock's body and carry it to Vulcan.

It was a rather absurd picture: James Kirk committing open mutiny and fleeing Fleet pursuit; but Saavik had been inside the mind of this man, and she understood that he would do anything to accomplish that which he believed to be necessary. Even his Starfleet oath could not prevent him from obeying the commands of his conscience.

Still she asked no questions. She clinically analyzed the battle between the crippled _Enterprise_ and a renegade band of Klingons. She looked down at her feet, trying to avoid McCoy's gaze, as the picture of herself and Spock, entangled in the madness of _pon farr_ , presented itself.

And as David Marcus threw himself heroically onto the Klingon who would have taken her life, she did not move. Only horror had a place in her mind as she saw the Klingon raise his weapon in the air and bring it down, ending the life of the young scientist.

 _This is not reality_ , she told herself, using every shred of Vulcan control Spock had ever taught her to keep herself from giving in to madness as the tears ran down her face. David _lives_. _None of this really happened_. But somehow, she knew that she was lying to herself. This had happened at some time. David had died… somewhere.

Only when the Enterprise spiraled in, a mass of crimson flame, to burn out in the atmosphere of Genesis, did she bring herself to meet McCoy's eyes again. He too, was crying, making no attempt to conceal the fact. Numb, completely unaware of the way she felt as her mind seethed in an emotional inferno, Saavik couldn't even bring herself to speak as Spock, his mind restored, stepped forward to greet his friends in the light of Vulcan's dawn.

He was alive. And there was still more…


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The USS Phoenix, Sulu's former command, pursues the Enterprise to Vulcan to arrest Kirk and his fugitives.

CHAPTER THREE

**USS _Phoenix_ Log, Stardate: 8223.4 **

**Lieutenant Aer'La commanding in the absence of First Officer Hadley.**

**Phoenix has been called out of maintenance in spacedock and ordered to follow the path of the USS _Enterprise_ , stolen by a band of Starfleet renegades led by Admiral James Kirk and including former Phoenix commander Sulu, to the Genesis planet in the Mutara sector. **

It was truly the most bizarre order she had ever been given: pull the ship out of dock in the middle of maintenance work and reassemble what crew she could to track down and arrest six of the most celebrated officers in the fleet—the former command crew of the _Enterprise._ Two thirds of the crew had been available, and, despite their grumbling, the repair crews had had the ship ready to go in six hours.

Aer'La had looked at Admiral Morrow as though he were mad when he had called her, a simple lieutenant just off of border patrol, into his office and put her in charge of the most delicate mission the fleet could ever dream of undertaking—the arrest of a band of heroes for mutiny. No diplomatic undertaking could ever be so sensitive as this. Starfleet would not be popular when it hauled Jim Kirk in for court martial. Why her? And why _Phoenix_?

The answer had been simple: no other ships were available. Of all the vessels in dock, only Hikaru Sulu's former command was in any shape for a deep-space probe. Even the proud _Excelsior_ , which would have been Hikaru's next command if not for the Genesis affair and all the complications thereof, had been too effectively sabotaged by Captain Scott for immediate repair. By the time Starfleet got her spaceworthy again, a regular, non-trans-warp ship would have been to Genesis and back again.

And, of course, there was the psychological factor—the indignity of sending a mere _scout_ to pick up these celebrated rebels. Morrow had liked that. It showed any sympathizers just what Starfleet's stand was in this matter. Therefore, neither Morrow nor that pompous Captain Stiles had accompanied _Phoenix_ as her temporary commander.

So, here they were. Roy Hadley had taken leave on a remote part of Earth where no one could contact him until he came back to civilization. Damn Earthers anyway! Why did they insist on preserving such areas of wilderness on their worlds? Aer'La's people, the Orions, used their resources to their maximum potential. They didn't waste precious land on such things as wilderness reserves. Gods, weren't there enough backward planets in the galaxy already?

If the fleet could have contacted Hadley, he would have led this mission. As first officer, command would fall next on him; but Aer'La had been left instead at the helm of a captain-less vessel. In front of her, at the helm console, was her acting exec, Terry Metcalfe. He was, of course, a competent officer; but he was still a j.g. with only a year's real experience behind him since leaving academy. And he was Sulu's protege. He wouldn't take well to arresting his friend and former captain—no matter what crimes he had committed.

Terry looked back at Aer'La with blackish-brown eyes. His eyes always unsettled her. Like Sulu's, they were so dark. All of Aer'La's people had clear, green eyes that matched their emerald skin. "Now entering Mutara sector," he reported.

Aer'La nodded and looked to the sciences station, being manned by Sernak, the Vulcan navigator. Normally it would be Hadley's position, but he wasn't there, and many operatives were doing double-duty. She asked the most obvious question. "Genesis?" The newly-formed planet had apparently been destroyed forty-eight hours ago. Astroscience officers on ships in the surrounding regions had noted signs of planet breakup in the area, and Starfleet's science division had concluded that Genesis, only a few weeks old, no longer existed.

Sernak worked the controls and brought the viewscreen in front of them around the sector to stop at a small, glowing mass. "There," he said.

"Full magnification," Aer'La told Metcalfe. The image on the viewer increased in size, but still appeared tiny.

Metcalfe gave a soft whistle. "She broke up all right."

"The planetary remnants are now contracting and cooling into a small, dense, planetoid-like mass," Sernak reported. "Dead rock."

Aer'La shook her head in wonder. "What the hell could have caused that?"

Sernak speculated. "The planet was apparently constructed using a flawed matrix. If I understand the parts of the Marcus research which have been declassified, an instability in the matrix could have caused premature aging of the whole system. That is, of course," he pointed out, "only what one might term a 'guess.' The majority of the Genesis information is still top secret."

"With good reason," Aer'La pointed out. "The Admiralty intended for the project to remain under cover until they saw proof positive of its effectiveness. They didn't want it falling into the wrong hands."

"Unfortunately," Metcalfe said grimly, "it appears it did."

"Unfortunately," Aer'La echoed. "But we and the crew of the _Grissom_ are still the only ones the Admiralty has chosen to brief on the subject. Not counting Admiral Kirk's group--and whoever pirated that tape from Fleet command…" Aer'La trailed off. The incident involving the pirated tape of Genesis information had been a damned embarrassing one for the Admiralty. Someone out there now knew what Genesis was, and no one knew how they'd managed to steal the information. She turned back to Sernak and asked, "Any trace of vessels in the area?"

Sernak studied his monitors. "No sign of vessels, Lieutenant, however… " he leaned particularly close to one of the monitors as splashes of color danced over its face. "There are fragments of debris. Small pieces of a hull, it appears. And apparently," he added quietly, "from the hull of a Federation vessel."

Aer'La saw Metcalfe swallow hard. They both must have been thinking the same thing.

Only two vessels were in this area: _Enterprise_ and _Grissom_. Fleet operations had lost contact with both of them. Now, it seemed, at least one of them had been destroyed. Through the lump in her throat, she asked, "Can you tell which ship it was?"

"I believe," he said, again studying the monitors—his voice dropped to a low gravely pitch that Vulcans used when trying to control extreme emotion. "I believe that there are fragments of both _Enterprise_ and _Grissom_ present."

All around the bridge, jaws quivered and eyes slitted shut in expressions of great pain. Hikaru Sulu had commanded the loyalty of every officer aboard, and the friendship of many as well. if both ships were gone, there was no possible hope that he still lived. They had all known they might discover this when they'd left base thirty hours ago, but, till now, they'd managed to avoid that fact. Now it was forced upon them.

All around her there were tears on the faces of officers and crew. Metcalfe faced away from her, toward the viewscreen. He appeared to be simply frozen in place. Sulu had been his captain, and Kirk had been his personal hero at the academy. The crew of the _Enterprise_ were the representatives of all Starfleet meant to him.

Amidst the emotionally charged atmosphere, Sernak, controlled and competent, still took his readings. He played the controls of one monitor many times before calling out, "Lieutenant."

Aer'La looked around.

"I have discovered a trail of energy, leading away from the Genesis planet."

"Another ship?" she asked hopefully.

"It would appear so."

All eyes were turned on the Vulcan as he read the data off his board. "High warp speed," he observed. "They were in a hurry, whoever they were."

No one voiced the hope that they all felt; that the crew of the _Enterprise_ had somehow escaped destruction. Aer'La summoned her courage and asked, "Could it be Enterprise?"

Sernak shook his head almost apologetically. "No, the trail is not that which would be left by a Federation ship."

Puzzled, Aer'La asked, "Were there reports of any other ships in the area?"

"Negative."

"Not that there would have been," Metcalfe pointed out. "We lost contact with _Grissom_ before the Genesis planet went. Obviously, neither it nor _Enterprise_ were destroyed in the blast, as their debris is floating in space and wasn't entirely vaporized in the breakup. Only _Grissom_ would have told us that another ship had entered the area, and, if they were destroyed, we wouldn't have been alerted. _Enterprise_ wasn't about to risk contact, I'm sure."

There was the faintest touch of bitterness in his voice, causing Aer'La to wonder exactly how he felt toward the _Enterprise_ fugitives. Could he be trusted on a mission such as this? Even a Fleet officer as dedicated as Metcalfe had his limits. And wouldn't his concept of just what Starfleet was be somewhat muddled right now?

She asked Sernak, "Any idea what kind of ship that could have been?"

The Vulcan was busily making adjustments and was oblivious to her question. "Is something wrong, Ensign?"

"I'm getting a very peculiar reading on one scanner. I can't identify it." His face was as close to open dismay as Aer'La was sure she would ever see it.

Before she could ask any further questions, Metcalfe's voice called her attention to the main screen. He was staring in disbelief as he murmured, "My God."

The reason for his expression was readily apparent. What was on the screen was enough to send them all into shock. Hanging in space where the cooling remnants of the Genesis planet had been before was the glittering, ethereal image of a starship. Something in Aer'La's mind whispered "Enterprise" before she had any time to really consider the apparition before her.

This was not a damaged ship, much less a totaled one. This ship was fully functional as it drifted in front of _Phoenix_. No one even bothered to question how a ship could survive so close to the gravitational field of the Genesis mass; they all accepted, as she did, that this was _Enterprise_ , back from the dead.

The spell lasted a considerable time on the bridge before Aer'La herself broke it by asking Sernak, "What the hell is that? Some sort of mirage?"

"Negative," he replied. "Sensors confirm its existence. It is real."

Skeptically, Aer'La asked, "Are you trying to tell me that that's really the _Enterprise_?"

"I am not. I do not know what it is, but it is there. It cannot, of course, be the Enterprise, but I would be interested to know what caused you to entertain such a suggestion at all. We have not seen the 'ship's' nomenclature, therefore we have no clue as to its identity."

Aer'La grinned as she realized that she had actually voiced her own sub-conscious hopes by trying to deny them. "I guess I'm just being emotional, Ensign."

Sernak raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. I hope not, as a similar thought crossed my mind when I first saw the image."

"I guess we all just have _Enterprise_ on the brain," she said lightly.

Communications officer Kevin Carson turned from his post and said rather timidly, "Ah, I believe that _is_ —I picked up a fragment of a transmission a moment ago. It was an automatic ID signal."

"And it was _Enterprise_?" Aer'La asked in some disbelief.

"'Fraid so."

She sighed. "See if you can raise them."

Carson turned back to his station and began the methodical ship-to-ship hail.

"USS _Phoenix_ calling _Enterprise_. Do you read? Come in _Enterprise_. This is USS _Phoenix._ "

"Fascinating," Sernak said, ignoring the complete unbelievability of the situation. "Notice the shimmering effect. The image appears to be fading in and out of view. I have encountered such an effect before."

"You have?" Aer'La was surprised.

"Yes. In the log of the _Enterprise_ , in fact. Captain Spock, then the ship's science officer, filed a report on a phenomenon they encountered in searching for the starship _Defiant_. That ship was in a state of interphase between two universes."

"Could this ship have slipped into another universe?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "I must remind you, Lieutenant, that that cannot be the _Enterprise_. The _Enterprise_ was badly damaged in battle with the _Reliant_. Unless she was somehow repaired—which would require the facilities of a spacedock—she would not appear as functional as she does here."

"What's your theory, then?"

Sernak almost shrugged. "I have none. I could offer suggestions, however. This could be another _Enterprise_ —from another universe parallel to our own."

Metcalfe turned to join the conversation. "Could she have been re-formed by the Genesis wave, in the final throes of breakup?"

"Doubtful," Sernak replied. "The Genesis effect only creates organic matter from inorganic. To produce a starship would be beyond its capabilities as I understand them."

"Well, maybe—" Metcalfe began.

But he was interrupted by Carson, who called their attention back to the screen.

Aer'La had been listening too closely to the debate between the other two officers to notice anything; but, when she looked, she saw that the picture was as it had been before. No _Enterprise_ —or ghostly image of one—obscured the view of the cooling planetoid any longer. Their "mirage" had vanished.

She gaped in shock. "What the hell happened?"

Sernak, of course, had an explanation. "If my theory—if you care to call it that—of dimensional interphase is correct, then the ship has likely slipped back into its own dimension. Interphase periods are not reputed to be long."

"Well, what caused an interphase here in the first place?" asked Metcalfe.

"Quite probably," the Vulcan speculated, "something related to the Genesis effect.

Since we know so little about it, it is difficult to say exactly what it is capable of causing."

Metcalfe seemed satisfied with that. It probably comforted him to think that the _Enterprise_ still existed somewhere—even if it was in another universe. In the meantime, they had other concerns, such as Kirk and company. "I'd like to stay and investigate further," Aer'La said to the others, "but I'm afraid we've got a report to make to Starfleet. Mr. Metcalfe, tie into Sernak's computer and keep us on course with that mysterious ship of ours. I've a feeling that, if we find it, we'll find out what really happened here."

The course did not seem to be leading them out of Federation space as Aer'La would have expected it to, She was pleasantly surprised, in fact, to discover that it followed a well-travelled route through the Federation—the route a Fleet captain or other UFP pilot would follow. After several hours of tracking, her confidence was beginning to build that some of their own personnel might have survived.

As they drew nearer to their unknown destination, Carson turned from his board to report a signal. "It's top priority from Fleet Command," the young officer told her. "For the eyes of yourself and your exec only."

Aer'La made an impressed face. "I wonder what that's about." She turned to the helm. "Exec, Metcalfe, that's you. We'll take it in my quarters. Pipe it down there, Carson, and take the con."

* * *

To all of the officers of the _Phoenix_ , the male ones, anyway, the ship's Orion third-in-command held a mysterious attraction. Phoenix was a border patrol ship, the only kind the individualist Orions ever seemed to sign aboard. They liked the freedom and lack of military formality.

As a result, few of the academy graduates who populated the ship's ranks had ever met an Orion, much less an Orion female. In her own world, Aer'La's kind were enslaved—objects of sexual exploitation. To the males of Orion, this seemed the only way to control these wild, green women who so attracted them. It was said, after all, that no male could resist one. The male who controlled one would feel very powerful indeed.

But, in Starfleet, Aer'La and her fellows were free. How she had come to be in the Fleet, Terry Metcalfe had never asked; but he was sure she hadn't found it easy to get there. Free, not only his equal but his superior, the attraction she held for him was only increased. He had never had occasion to visit her quarters—to many of the ship's males, such a visit would constitute a major conquest; but this was an official visit—in the line of duty.

Still, Terry took the opportunity to have a look at the way the Security Chief lived. Her quarters were furnished quite luxuriously for those of a Starfleet officer. They were decked out with pieces of the culture anyone would expect her to despise—her own. Of course, Orion was the world she had been born into. The barbarically splendorous furs draped on the bed and walls, the tapestries, the beautifully carved erotic sculptures—all were probably reminders of happy times of her childhood, as well as reminders that she was a woman, a passionate one, as well as an officer.

Aer'La herself was busy activating her computer console and calling up the priority signal from the memory. Once she had completed vocal identification and retina scan, she called him over to a seat by the console and they waited for the tape to begin.

On the tiny screen, once the standard UFP banner had vanished, Terry immediately recognized Admiral Morrow, Commander, Starfleet. The handsome black man smiled perfunctorily and addressed them. "Lt. Aer'La, Lt. Metcalfe, as you know, you are currently following the USS _Enterprise_ and its crew in order to find out exactly what happened to both them and the Genesis planet, which we are quite certain has been destroyed. I'm afraid we've left you a bit in the dark regarding some of the specifics of this mission. For various reasons, we felt that the details should be revealed only to the two of you and only after you had seen for yourselves something of what had happened."

His expression became somewhat sympathetic. "I realize that this is a difficult mission for you and your crew. Had we had any choice, we would have sent someone else, but we didn't have a choice. I'm sorry we've had to do things this way, but the Admiralty believed it best." His businesslike expression returned. "Apparently, there was another ship—a Klingon ship—involved in the incident at Genesis. I think it's safe to assume, therefore, that they are responsible for the silence of the _Grissom_.

"I assume that Admiral Kirk would have broken radio silence to inform us of any danger to the Federation or an attack on one of our ships, so I wouldn't think _Enterprise_ was left untouched either. Although the ships—and we believe the majority of the crews—have probably been lost, we do know that someone from _Grissom_ has survived. After the Genesis explosion, we received the following transmission:" Morrow reached in front of him to a small control panel and keyed an audio tape to play for them.

The voice was that of a woman. It was cool and controlled, but somewhat haggard.

" _Lt. Saavik of Federation science ship_ Grissom _calling Starfleet communications. Come in please._ "

The next voice was familiar—oh, so very familiar. It was Kevin Carson's. He had been on duty at Starfleet communications during the period between assignments. " _Communications to_ Grissom. _We've been trying to reach you folks for days! A freighter just picked up a lifeboat with a couple of survivors from a merchant vessel—they claim Klingons raided their ship!_ "

" _It is likely that claim is true. We… experienced a similar encounter._ "

_"Are you all right?"_

_"I regret that we are not. We have a serious and continuing emergency. We have incurred many fatalities. We need your cooperation."_

_"You have it, Lieutenant, what do you require?"_

_"A patch into your library's data-base, and a general message to all ships between Mutara sector and Vulcan."_

_"The patch is made. Lieutenant, what communications protocol are you using? What the devil are you flying?"_

_"Please stand by."_

_Now Morrow's own voice introduced itself into the taped conversation. "Cut that damned data link! Lieutenant Saavik! This is Starfleet Commander Morrow! What the hell is going on out there? Let me speak. with Esteban!"_

_"I am sorry, sir. That is impossible."_

_"I want some explanations! Have you seen the_ Enterprise?"

" _The_ Enterprise _is not within our range, sir."_

_"What message do you want us to relay?"_

_"'Klingon fighter on course to Vulcan. This ship is not an adversary. It is held by a contingent of Federation personnel. It is running with shields down and weapons disabled. Essential that we reach Vulcan. Delay will result in further casualties._ This ship is not an adversary.'"

 _"A Klingon fighter! Lieutenant, I ask again, where is_ Grissom? _What in blazes is going on out there?"_

_"Saavik. out."_

"Lieutenant Saavik," Morrow explained, keying the tape off, "was aboard _Grissom_ as a part of the special scientific team investigating the Genesis planet. It was she, along with Dr. David Marcus, who discovered that the photon tube bearing Captain Spock's body was still intact on the surface of the planet. And therein," he said with an ironic twitch of his lips, "hangs a tale. You see, Admiral Kirk found out that Spock's body was there, and insisted on going. As you know, when I refused his request, he… stole the _Enterprise_.

"Kirk seemed to believe that Spock had some sort of… immortal soul, I guess you could call it. He believed that Spock had placed it inside Dr. McCoy's mind before his death. He seemed quite concerned that Spock's body and soul be returned to Vulcan for some sort of ceremony and eventual burial. As of now, we do not know whether or not they did retrieve Spock's body… or if they even survived. Lt. Saavik's claim that it was 'essential' that her ship reach Vulcan or others would die could indicate that they had Spock or McCoy or both aboard, but that is only speculation.

"We must assume that Captain Esteban is no longer alive, as well as many of the _Grissom's_ crew… " he trailed off for a moment and gave them a hopeless look. "A Klingon fighter wouldn't hold many people. And God only knows how they got aboard! There could be survivors from either ship—" he grinned for but a moment—"you must admit, Mr. Metcalfe, that the presumptuous behavior of the surviving ship has Jim Kirk's signature on it. I, personally, wouldn't be surprised if he and his other officers were the ones who commandeered that ship.

"I know that all of you must be anxious to know the fate of your former captain, but remember that your duty is to the Federation and Starfleet first. With the benefit of the knowledge contained in these orders, you will continue on your mission to round up both _Grissom_ survivors and _Enterprise_ fugitives. And remember that they _are_ fugitives. They have all committed crimes worthy of court martial." His face softened again and he added, "Like you, I hope that we find someone alive to stand trial. Good luck."

The screen flashed to black.

Aer'La looked at Terry. "Well, there you have it. Now we know everything." She seemed to be studying him with great care.

"Is something wrong, Aer'La?" he asked.

After a pause, she said, "I hope you'll keep in mind what he said—about the status of Kirk's party. They are to be treated as fugitives. We can't allow our own feelings—"

Terry supposed he should be angry at the implications regarding his loyalty to the Fleet; but he knew that he had a bit of a reputation as someone who didn't always go strictly by the rules when friendship was involved. He also knew that he had worked damn hard to earn that very reputation. He wouldn't lash out at Aer'La just for believing exactly what he wanted her to.

"I promise I'll behave myself, Lieutenant. I'm an officer first, and I'm not about to jeopardize my career in some vain display of loyalty. Spock wouldn't have found that logical." Aer'La smiled at that word. "But after we've returned them to the Admiralty—" he added somewhat threateningly.

She nodded. "I understand perfectly. I'll be on their side too." She stood and straightened her tunic with a smile. "First, though, let's go make sure their alive. Although, I'm sure that's only a technicality."

* * *

The crew had been more than a little surprised when Aer'La had given the order to cease tracking the alien vessel and proceed immediately to Vulcan. Morrow's tone in his transmission had made it clear to her that he didn't want any of the others among the crew to know what was going on until they had to. As politicians went, Morrow was a good man; but Commander, Starfleet was a political position and he did have the Fleet's image to worry about. So nothing would be known about Kirk's crimes if he could help it.

Terry Metcalfe worked confidently at the helm. Not happily, but confidently. Of course, she couldn't blame him for being angry at Fleet command. Despite his pledge of loyalty in her quarters earlier today, he had made other statements regarding the situation which were not exactly kind to the Admiralty.

Aer'La still remembered the look on his face when she'd called him at Command HQ at the Fleet officers' barracks. Oddly enough, he hadn't left for any leave-taking. As she understood it, he had family on the North American continent of Earth, but he'd preferred to stay around until his reassignment took effect.

He was to be given a position on _Enterprise_. Perhaps that was what had hurt him most. When Morrow had ordered her decommissioned he'd been furious, thus he had somebody to aim his anger at when she told him that Kirk was to be arrested.

"That desk-ridden, bureaucratic sonofabitch!" he had roared, ill-caring of the others around him at the public compic booth outside his quarters. "Of all the back-stabbing… the bastard's got a red-tape dispenser where his brain oughtta be!"

Aer'La hadn't understood that reference, which she assumed to be an archaic Earth term. She did understand, though, that it wasn't meant to be complimentary. "Terry," she had pointed out, "he doesn't have much choice. Admiral Kirk stole a starship."

"After Morrow decommissioned her!" he said bitterly. "He didn't have any need to—"

" _Enterprise_ is outdated, Terry. If the _Excelsior_ class goes through—"

He choked back an ironic laugh. "That over-streamlined monster? I'm surprised it made it off the drawing boards. Trans-warp drive isn't even fully-tested—besides, the damn thing looks like a pregnant _sehlat_."

"Hikaru was assigned to it, you might be too."

" _Was_ assigned, yeah. They took it away the first chance they got. And I wouldn't want to serve on it anyway."

Terry was quiet enough now that they were on the actual mission, but that, as he had promised, was only temporary. Once Kirk and his party—if they were alive, and she couldn't help believing that they were—had been turned over to the courts, Terry would be right in there rallying behind them. Whatever a lowly lieutenant could do for a gang of felonious heroes, he would do.

As she daydreamed about the possibilities of Kirk's trial, Aer'La found herself thrown suddenly, violently from her seat. Picking herself up from the floor amidst several native Orion curses, she demanded, "What was that?"

Metcalfe looked incredulous. "I don't know. She just… lurched. We must have passed through some sort of… shock wave."

Hoping for a more technical explanation of whatever had sent the ship into such fits, she turned to Sernak with a hopeful look. "See anything?"

The Vulcan looked uncharacteristically puzzled, pulled back from his scanners, and then looked again, squinting. "A disturbance, yes. But I've no idea what it is."

"That helps," Aer'La said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said. "That's all I can say about it. It exists, but exactly what it is I don't know. I have never seen a phenomenon like it."

"If it helps any," said Terry from behind her, "it played hell with the chronometers. They ran forward, backwards… everywhere but sideways."

"Fascinating," Sernak remarked. "It would appear that this effect is some sort of time-immune field."

"Time immune?" Aer'La asked.

"No other phenomenon would account for such erratic behavior of chronometers, Equipment failure is a slight possibility, but why only during the shockwave? If it affected electronic devices, it would not single out the chronometer alone, either." He glanced again at his scanners. "And it would explain these odd readings. If there were a ripple in the fabric of time—"

"Fabric?" Aer'La's eyes grew wide.

"An illustration. I refer to a disturbance of the continuum."

"Is that possible?" she asked.

"Quite possible," the Vulcan replied. "They have been observed before, but their causes have not often been discovered. If we could study this one—"

"We don't have time," she reminded him. "Take your readings while you can, but we can't slow down."

As she returned to her chair ("Her" chair. What an odd thought. Was she growing used to command?) Sernak played with his scanners, rapidly taking data on the phenomenon. After several minutes of this, he looked up sharply. "Lieutenant, I believe you should see this."

Aer'La turned around. "See what?"

On the screen in front of the bridge, Sernak keyed up a diagram of Federation space.

Over this, the computer's tactical display produced a set of points of green light. "These are all points of time-disturbances like the one we encountered. Our long-range sensors have detected many others in this area of space." A blue line grew out from their location on the map in two directions. It arced out and came together to form an elliptical shape with sharp points at both ends. It looked something like a leatherish object Aer'La had seen several crewmen tossing about in the gym.

"The blue lines, forming a kind of ellipsoid, are the projections made by the computer following a mathematically calculated parabolic course. Assuming the points of disturbance continue their pattern beyond the range of our sensors—and I would say it was safe to assume so—the 'time ripples' seem to meet at two points in our space. One of these points is the location where the Genesis planet used to be. The other planet is listed in the directory as 'classified.' It is restricted to command personnel."

"These 'time ripples,'" Aer'La asked him, "could they have anything to do with the appearance of our ' _Enterprise_ ' back there?"

"I would say they must. In fact, there is a great probability that they are the immediate cause of the interphase."

Aer'La sighed heavily. It was an intriguing problem, yes; but they had a mission to attend to. She couldn't stop off to investigate every scientific oddity they spotted along the way. "Is that thing… all of these time ripples—are they dangerous?"

Sernak made an uncertain gesture. "As navigational hazards, certainly. They are not readily visible on sensors. As threats to the continuum itself, possibly. If the fabric of space-time is not repaired, they could expand and cause grave damage. Then again, they could be no threat at all. It is quite possible that they merely exist as paradoxes of some sort which will be compounded no further."

"What are the chances of that?"

"I would estimate several hundred-million to one against."

"Wonderful. I can't just abandon these… whatever they are. Are they dangerous to anyone in the immediate future—say, a year?"

"Only if someone were to pilot a ship directly into one of them," Sernak replied seriously.

"Well, I hate to be an armchair commander, but I'm afraid we can't be the ones to worry about them just now. Contact Starfleet, alert them of the dangers, and notify them that I am proceeding with the mission to Vulcan." As her orders were carried out, Aer'La sat back in her chair, feeling put upon. Why, on her first real command, did she have to deal with so many insoluble mysteries? As if arresting Jim Kirk wouldn't be hard enough.

* * *

The planet Vulcan had no moon, but it did have a twin locked in orbit with it around its huge, red sun. This smaller planet provided a reasonable facsimile for moonlight, albeit moonlight of a different color. Hikaru Sulu was grateful for the effect. He had always enjoyed moonlight on those alien planets fortunate enough to have it. It had a calming effect on the mind and spirit, enabling one to sort out the many problems with which one was beset when the sun was up.

Sarek and Amanda's garden behind their house had apparently been constructed with Vulcan's "moonlight" in mind. The central fountain had no need for artificial lighting; it picked up the reflection from the huge twin and scattered it in beautifully symmetric patterns on the ancient stone walkways around it. A fountain was really quite an oddity on a desert planet—obviously, Amanda had introduced her husband's planet to the concept.

Despite the heat and thin air, making breathing a bit of a chore, Hikaru felt quite relaxed out here. He and his companions had been staying with Spock's parents for several days now, since the _katra_ ritual had been successfully completed, restoring Spock's mind to his body.

Spock was different now. In fact, everyone was different. The eight survivors of the Genesis incident felt like just that—survivors. They were numb. Only now, after a week had passed, were their feelings beginning to return to them. After all the death, and the one astounding resurrection, no one knew exactly how they should feel. And that was why Hikaru needed time to sort things out. After making his decision to back Kirk and Spock at any cost, he had been at peace with himself. Now he had to restore that peace, for he wouldn't have a chance later.

Soon, they would all be taken back to Fleet headquarters for court martial. Oh, Sarek was trying to stay the order of arrest—he might even succeed for a time—but sooner or later they would be taken back. Starfleet had probably already dispatched a ship to come after them. Probably, it wolud be the _Excelsior_ , his own ship.

Breaking the silence behind him, footsteps sounded lightly against the stone. He turned and saw Leonard McCoy, quite visible in this light. "Hey, Doc," he said pleasantly. "How's the patient?"

McCoy laughed humorlessly. "Spock? He's fine. Sarek's with him now. The healers seem to think he might get his memory back completely someday."

"Someday? That doesn't sound promising."

"Yeah, well, I can't really say I'm too worried about Spock right now. Confused or not, he's alive and fully sane." The doctor's voice trailed off. "But Jim… "

"You're worried about him?"

McCoy nodded. "He's been through an awful lot these past weeks—Spock, David… the _Enterprise_. "

"He's always bounced back before," Hikaru offered by way of comfort.

"He's never lost so much before—not all at once. No, Hikaru, I'm really worried. As his friend, I'd say he hasn't been himself; and as a psychologist, I'd say his mental stability is deteriorating rapidly. He's on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"He'll have time to rest," Hikaru pointed out. life's peaceful enough here for now —almost like shore leave."

McCoy looked at him skeptically and said, "This 'shore leave' will be over very soon. You and I both know that."

Hikaru nodded. "They've certainly dispatched a ship."

"Yep. And when this 'shore leave' is over, we'll have no ship to return to. The _Enterprise_ is gone. Instead of going back to his command chair, Jim'll be hauled into a court room and slapped down with the rest of us. And I'll tell you frankly: the shape he's in right now, he won't be able to stand up to that kind of strain. He'll go over the edge, and we might not be able to bring him back."

* * *

Once the ground car had stopped in front of the large residence on the east side of ShiKahr, Terry, followed by Kevin Carson and four security officers from the _Phoenix_ , got out and surveyed the house of Sarek of Vulcan, father of the late Captain Spock.

After getting ground clearance from Vulcan Space Central, _Phoenix_ had contacted the Federation embassy and asked the whereabouts of Lt. Saavik and any other survivors of the Genesis incident. They had been directed to the Vulcan Bureau of Federation Affairs, where a humorless man had informed them that Sarek was acting as representative for the fugitives they sought. No one had bothered to tell them which of Kirk's party were still alive, but at least now they knew someone had survived.

Until the Federation Council made them decide otherwise, Vulcan's planetary government was taking the part of Admiral Kirk and his associates. They had claimed diplomatic immunity for them as representatives of Vulcan interests. The Vulcans were not happy that Morrow and the Admiralty had been so insensitive to their concern for Spock. The diplomatic immunity, however, didn't really hold up against grand theft and mutiny, but the extradition procedures at least gave them time.

Meanwhile, whoever was still alive was inside this house. Terry couldn't help a silent prayer for the life of his former captain. It was somewhat selfish to wish for the life of one man over all the others who were now dead, but he couldn't help being a little selfish.

 _Phoenix's_ orders required them to deliver the arrest orders despite the diplomatic snags, so Terry had been sent down to see to it. The officers with him were really an honor delegation of sorts—they didn't want to insult the Vulcan ambassador by treating this matter too lightly. They wouldn't actually be arresting anyone; the guards were just for show.

Aer'La had wanted to come along, of course, but she was needed aboard ship to deal with all the incoming communications from both Starfleet and Vulcan. Such calls required the attention of no less than the ship's highest-ranking officer, leaving Metcalfe to play messenger boy on the planet's surface.

As they walked toward the house, Terry felt as if he were advancing toward his opponent in a showdown in the Old West on Earth. The guards showed little expression one way or the other—they were trained not to—and Carson was the picture of arrogant confidence, as always. He looked to Metcalfe at the door and asked, "You ready?"

His mouth dry, Terry said, "Hell no."

He pressed the door buzzer, realizing that his hands were trembling. He wondered what the attitude of Sarek and Amanda—not to mention the _Enterprise_ themselves—would be when he announced that he'd been sent to arrest them. He wondered how he would feel in their place—not a pleasant thought.

After agonizing seconds the door slid back to reveal a woman—Amanda, obviously—with elegant silver hair and a kind of beauty and grace acquired only after many years of life. In many ways, she reminded Terry of his grandmother—a proper southern lady from his native North America.

In soft, measured, tones, she said, "Hello, Lieutenant." She greeted him by the rank on his jacket. "May I help you?"

Trying vainly to swallow, he asked, "Are you Amanda?"

"Yes," she replied pleasantly.

He extended a hand, hoping she still responded to ancient Terran gestures. "I'm Lt. Terrence Metcalfe of the starship _Phoenix_. Ah… I'm here about Admiral Kirk's party. We were referred… "

Amanda noticed his discomfort and said helpfully, "Yes, they're here. I take it this concerns an arrest order?"

"I'm afraid so," he said apologetically. "I've spoken with officials of your government about the situation, and the immunity granted to the Admiral and his companions was explained. However, Starfleet still requires me to deliver the proper documents."

With a surprisingly understanding smile, Amanda said, "Of course. I'm familiar with Starfleet law."

There was an embarrassing pause. Of course she was familiar with Starfleet law!

She, too, was an ambassador of Vulcan. He continued, "If we could see… " he broke off, remembering a pressing question. "Just who _is_ here, anyway?"

"I thought you'd be somewhat concerned, Lieutenant," she said with laughter in her eyes. "All of the _Enterprise_ personnel survived their ship's destruction," she paused as Terry and Kevin exchanged obvious glances of relief. "And of course Commander Uhura and Lt. Saavik are here also. I take it you have a warrant for her arrest as well?"

"And a subpoena for the Lieutenant."

"They are all here, and quite immune to Starfleet interference," said a new voice from behind Amanda. There was no threat in it, simply a statement of fact edged with… a bit of anger? As he stepped into the light, Terry recognized the impressive figure of Sarek of Vulcan, whom he had seen often on news broadcasts. Had he not known him from his public life, Terry would surely have recognized this man anyway as the one who must be Spock's father. "I trust you realize this fact, Lieutenant Metcalfe?"

Terry paused for a moment, wondering how the ambassador knew who he was. Clumsily, he raised his right hand in the Vulcan salute he had learned from Captain Spock. "Peace and long life, Sarek. I see you already know me as well."

"From my son, yes," replied the older man. Terry understood then how Sarek had known him. Vulcans, being a telepathic race, could share information in other ways than simple word of mouth. Using mental images, Spock could easily have shown his father a picture of one of his students.

He gestured behind him. "And these are my fellow officers. Forgive me, Amanda, for not making the proper introductions earlier."

She smiled. "You do have other things on your mind, Lieutenant." Her good nature and politeness contrasted sharply with Sarek's apparent hostility. Of course, Vulcans did seem a bit cold sometimes anyway; but Sarek had good reason to be hostile.

He introduced Carson and the guards, and then addressed Sarek again. "I assume you also know why I'm here, Ambassador?"

"We have been expecting an officer," he said flatly. His facial quality changed slightly, and he added, "I am pleased that Star fleet elected to send one so familiar with the parties involved. Your presence should take some of the stress out of the necessary proceedings—especially for your human colleagues."

Slightly astounded that Sarek had broken from his hostility to what was, for a Vulcan, a practical statement of welcome, Terry blurted out, "Thank you, sir. I—I hope so."

"Admiral Kirk and the others are waiting inside. We heard you would be arriving soon. But I must ask that only you, Lieutenant, accompany my wife and myself in to speak with them. If you other gentlemen would wait in our outer room," he gestured in the direction of a door just behind him.

Terry didn't like the idea of going in alone, but he didn't want to make the situation any more difficult for himself or Sarek and his wife. After the loss of their son, they were behaving with extreme kindness to someone who was, in a way, betraying his friendship. "If you Wish, Ambassador."

As they started on through the door with Sarek leading the way, Carson grabbed Terry's sleeve and pulled him back from the rest. "I don't like this, Terry," he whispered.

"I'm not exactly crazy about it myself, but we don't have much choice. This is a damn sensitive issue."

For one of the few times since Terry had known him, Kevin looked genuinely worried.

"You sure you should talk to Kirk alone?"

Although touched by his friend's concern, Terry tried to brush the question off lightly. "Hey, don't worry. I've got a phaser."

"That's not what I mean. This won't be… easy."

Terry mustered a grin. Damn, his throat was still dry! "That's why I'm going instead of you." He gave his friend a playful slap on shoulder and walked on. He followed Sarek, who had stopped and patiently waited, and wondered what the hell he would say in there and why his palms were beginning to sweat.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and his crew are under arrest. Kirk descends into madness. Sulu reunites with his protege. Sarek, Spock, and Amanda discuss problems of cosmic proportion.

CHAPTER FOUR

The central living area Sarek escorted Terry to was not what he would have expected of Vulcan living. Onboard ship, Vulcans tended to be rather spartan in their decor. This room, in fact. the whole house, showed a human touch—specifically a feminine one. Obviously, Amanda had had a hand in the decorating.

Once inside the central room, however, Terry didn't find himself noticing walls or floors or other things inanimate. Around him were anxious faces, most of them with a touch of sympathy in their expression. Captain Scott, Dr. McCoy and Commander Uhura sat casually on the large couch in front of him. In nearby chairs, facing one another, were his commander, Hikaru Sulu, and a man he assumed to be Pavel Chekov.

Sulu smiled at him in greeting, as did Uhura and McCoy. Could they see how nervous he was? Were they offering him a vote of confidence? Perhaps they wanted to remind him that they were old friends and teachers as well as criminals he'd been sent to arrest. He remembered.

He wished he didn't.

Two of the men and women in the room were standing. In a corner, removed from the others, was a Vulcan woman in a Starfleet uniform. Oddly enough, she was the only one in uniform. The others wore civilian outfits of Terran or Vulcan design. She turned an impassive gaze on him as he entered. Behind that gaze he glimpsed a murderous fury, ready to be unleashed. This woman was no ordinary Vulcan. He had heard that Saavik was also half-Romulan. This must be her. She was beautiful, but he could sense a certain degree of hostility toward him in her expression.

But the most hostile of all was James Kirk. He too, was standing—in fact, he was pacing behind the others. Like Uhura and McCoy, he had met Metcalfe at his graduation, specifically at his _Kobayashi-Maru_ test; but he made no attempt to make his arresting officer feel comfortable. If Terry had ever felt the least bit intimidated by a superior, it was nothing to what he felt now, seeing James Kirk's hard, unforgiving face.

"I believe," Sarek said finally, making Terry realize that he had been staring, "that most of you know Lt. Metcalfe."

Sarek glanced at Terry; the floor was now his. God, he couldn't even swallow!

"Hello," he said stupidly, feeling his face drain of color. "I… you know why I'm here, I suppose." He looked at Kirk in particular as he surveyed the room. His expression hadn't softened. Trying to ignore him, he pulled the printout sheets from his pocket, feeling like one of those obnoxious bureaucrats with horn-rimmed glasses so prevalent in movies from the twentieth century.

"As you know," he explained, rolling the papers in his hands, " the Vulcan government has interceded on your behalf with the Federation. These orders of arrest," he held out the wrinkled papers, damp from the sweat on his hands, "have been stayed for the moment. But Starfleet regulations—"

"We're all aware of Starfleet regulations, Mr. Metcalfe," Kirk interrupted loudly. "Could you just get on with it?"

"Of course," he mumbled. Since he had first come in, he had wanted the Admiral to say something to break the tension. Now he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Terry was beginning to feel like a first-year cadet—and he was beginning to resent Kirk for it. "All of you, except Lt. Saavik, have been charged with mutiny and conspiracy to grand theft. Commander Uhura," he met the woman's face with some difficulty, "has been charged with an additional count of assaulting an officer."

Uhura's dark eyes sparkled with fierce laughter, but her face remained impassive.

"And Lt. Saavik," Terry continued, "has been subpoenaed by Starfleet for testimony." _And now the hard part_ , he thought, turning back to Kirk. "Admiral Kirk is being held solely responsible for the destruction of _Enterprise_ , and will be charged accordingly."

Rage burned in Kirk's eyes, but before he could respond, McCoy spoke up. "What?" he demanded. "What the hell were we supposed to do? The goddamn Klingons did everything but destroy us! Starfleet doesn't even know what went on out there!"

"No, Doctor," Terry agreed apologetically, "they don't. But they're holding that the Admiral's actions cost them the _Enterprise_ in any case."

This time, Kirk stopped McCoy from responding. His voice was so filled with anger that even Sarek stared somewhat open-mouthed. "Cost them what? A decommissioned piece of wreckage they didn't even take an interest in repairing? Why should they worry about losing something they had already declared worthless to them?"

Metcalfe knew—as Kirk must also—that Starfleet was trying to make an example of him; but he couldn't bring himself to go into an explanation. Instead, he said simply, "I'm sorry, Admiral."

"I see," Kirk said blankly. "You'll forgive me, Lieutenant, if I choose not to believe that."

McCoy stood now, and moved to Kirk's side. "Jim!" he hissed, "take it easy!"

"I won't take it easy!" Kirk responded petulantly. "Anymore than Starfleet's taking it easy on us. They make it sound as if we had some sort of choice!" He turned furiously to Metcalfe. "We took the only course of action open to us! The only course you left open!" Kirk's face was red, his voice was failing. He no longer shouted. Though he had resented him a moment ago for making him feel so uncomfortable, Terry was beginning to pity him, as he could see by their faces that the others did too.

Kirk turned angrily and left the room, saying only, "I've had enough of this! Excuse me." McCoy tailed him out looking deeply concerned.

Terry found himself speechless. He didn't like being here at all, and now Kirk apparently blamed him for the fact that he and his friends were being arrested. As he looked out the door Kirk had just stormed through, he saw Uhura had come to stand at his side. He looked sadly at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Uhura managed a half-smile. "I know. Don't worry, it's not you. He's been through a lot lately and… you just happened to be unlucky enough to draw this mission. He would have blamed anyone they sent."

Terry nodded. "I'm sorry about the _Enterprise_ , I know she meant a lot to you all."

It was all he could think to say.

Captain Scott clapped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Aye, lad. Thot she did. An' Jim's son—"

That took Terry by surprise. "The Admiral's son…?" he asked incredulously.

"It isn't well-known," Uhura explained, "but David Marcus was the Admiral's son. He died on Genesis. The Klingons—"

"My God," said Terry quietly. "No wonder. After Captain Spock's death, and now…"

Uhura and Scott were trading looks which Metcalfe didn't understand. He looked helplessly to Hikaru for an explanation. "We _are_ going to tell him, aren't we?" the young captain asked his companions.

"I guess we should," Uhura.

"Tell me what?" Terry demanded, thoroughly lost. Scotty and Uhura looked at each other again. "Well?" he pressed, his dislike of being in the dark overriding his guilt at Kirk's anger.

"Before we answer any of your questions about our… mission," Uhura said, "there's something you ought to know about Spock." She didn't seem able to find words to complete the cryptic thought. Instead, she pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room where Amanda had just entered with another Vulcan. At least, Terry thought of him at first as just another Vulcan; because logic wouldn't allow him to recognize this man as who he obviously was… who he couldn't possibly be.

"Spock?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Captain?"

He tried several times to clear his throat as he stared at the apparition in the doorway. Then he turned to' the assembled officers and demanded loudly, "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

Everyone took turns in explaining to Metcalfe the events that had led to Spock's amazing return to life—although the Captain himself was content to remain silent and sit by the hearth with his mother. Terry understood now that Spock's body had been re-created in the Genesis matrix, and that his _Katra_ had been restored to him by Vulcan elders. Sarek explained that his son's mind was still somewhat confused, his memories clouded; but that a series of mind melds was beginning to restore his technical knowledge and his basic personality. With luck, his memories, too, would come back in time.

Terry sat across from Sarek on the couch in the living room. "You realize, I take it," the elder Vulcan was saying, "that you have been told all of this because your friends felt that you could be trusted. Please do not repeat any of it to Starfleet at this time."

"Considering my status as arresting officer," Terry said apprehensively, "I'm not sure I—"

"You needn't worry about your duty, Lieutenant," Sarek said. "Your superiors will hear all of this soon enough."

"We just wanted you to understand the situation, Terry," Sulu told him. "The Admiralty doesn't have to know that we told you first. In fact, I doubt they'll care. Just keep quiet for a day or two."

Terry gave a quick nod. It made him feel better to know they had trusted him as a friend—despite his orders. And Sarek and Hikaru were right: it would all come out, sooner or later. Federation rules or no, it would be unethical for him to betray secrets to Starfleet that he had gained through personal trust. "Okay, as arresting officer, I never heard a word." He stood and faced the entire group. "But if you'll excuse me, I must make some semblance of a report to my commander."

But as he reached the door, Hikaru caught his arm and said quietly, "Do you think you could stay a few minutes longer? There are… a few things I'd like to talk to you about. Things you ought to know before we go to trial."

Terry would have liked very much to talk to Hikaru for a few minutes alone—to get a more personal view of all that happened—but he knew it wouldn't be wise. "I… I've already violated regulations by discussing what I have with you. I don't think it should go any farther."

Hikaru countered with a friendly smile. "I promise, no details—just some personal matters I want to… to go over with you. There are things we have to talk about."

Terry ran that through his mind. There _were_ things they had to talk about, not the least of which was the bizarre time phenomenon they had encountered out there. He did want to talk to _someone_ about that.

Before he answered, Amanda came forward from where she stood with Spock in the back of the room. "We'd be happy to have you stay as our guest, Lieutenant, for as long as you like."

An invitation from the lady Amanda was not easily refused. "Just give me a minute to let the others know what's going on," he told her. "I'll send them back to the ship and stay a little longer. As a matter of fact," he added to Sulu, "there are a few things I'd like to tell you about."

* * *

"The gall of that… that _child_ ," Jim Kirk spat angrily. He was still pacing the floor of his room obsessively. His behavior was the worst McCoy had seen it yet. He was so uptight, so irritable. McCoy didn't believe that it was actually Jim Kirk who paced in front of him, a perfect example of a man coming apart at the seams.

"Easy, Jim," he said soothingly. "We all knew it was coming, and yelling at Metcalfe won't do any good. You're only making yourself miserable."

"Hah!" Kirk countered. " _He's_ making me miserable!"

"Jim, do you think this was easy for him? Do you think he enjoyed it?"

Kirk looked at him, only bitterness showing in his tired eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Bull!"

"That kid was our student!" Kirk raved, oblivious now to McCoy's reactions. "Spock was his teacher, Sulu was his first captain. All of us oversaw his cadet cruise! How _dare_ he condemn us?"

 _Condemn?_ "My God, Jim. Don't be paranoid. The boy's just doing his job."

The Admiral whirled. "I'm damn sick and tired of hearing about people just doing their jobs, Doctor! Harry Morrow was just doing his job, Stiles was just doing his job…"

He was babbling. "Jim," McCoy said softly.

But Kirk ignored him—or perhaps didn't hear him. "My gods," he laughed sadly, "even Kruge was just doing his job. His job." He laughed, but the laugh transformed itself into a sob. "He killed my son."

McCoy came forward, taking his friend's arm. "Hey, Jim—"

Kirk grabbed both the Doctor's arms and stared into his eyes. "Those bastards killed my son!" he cried desperately. "They took my ship, and now… now they'll take my rank." Tears were flowing freely now down his face. "Thirty years! Goddamn it! Thirty years!" He broke away from McCoy's grasp and began to wander aimlessly about the room. "I couldn't give myself to anyone. Not Carol, not Jan, only the ship… only the service… I couldn't be with my son. Only the ship. I never even told him I loved him. I never had a chance to find out! Just do your job! Just follow orders! Just be the Federations poster boy!"

"He's dead, Bones," Kirk repeated, facing McCoy again with eyes so filled with pain the doctor had to force himself to meet them. "He was so young. But the ship, the ship. And now she's gone. It's gone, Bones. They've taken it… they've… " he was beyond words.

So was McCoy. Nothing he could say would help his friend now. God only knew what would. From his medikit on the night table, McCoy extracted a hypo and approached Kirk, who stood, unmoving, in the middle of the room. Softly he pressed it against Kirk's arm and reached out to help him lie back on the bed. With his patient attended to for the moment, he started to leave the room. But he couldn't think of anywhere he really wanted to go.

Pulling up a chair, he sat and watched Kirk toss and turn on the bed as the sedative took effect.

* * *

Hikaru had brought Terry to the garden, where the others would leave them alone. Besides that, it was more generally suited to conversation than many other areas of the house. And he had many things to explain to Terry, his junior officer and friend. He had been closer to him than any other officer aboard Phoenix—he had taught him all he knew of piloting a starship and of fencing and of many other things an officer passed on to his protege—and now he felt he owed him an explanation.

Perhaps he was more worried about rationalization than any of the others. McCoy had shown no indecision, of course, he'd had no choice. And Kirk hadn't had much choice either—come to Vulcan or let his best friends die. Chekov and Scotty had come quite willingly, as had Uhura. Not that Hikaru had been unwilling, he did not regret his decision; but he did feel a need to talk about it.

Maybe he thought others needed to understand because he, himself, at first, had been unsure? Even though his captaincy had already been taken away from him, and even though he'd always held the lives of his friends higher than his career, there had been doubts. Uppermost in his mind had been the question that was now beginning to plague them all: was Jim Kirk going over the edge? Was he suffering from some obsession that had driven him to madness?

At the outset, even to Hikaru, the mission to Genesis had seemed somewhat mad. To an outsider it must seem madder still. Terry had seen the results of their "fool's errand," though, and perhaps that knowledge would temper his judgement.

And perhaps Terry would see the mission the way Hikaru had when he'd made his final decision. Perhaps he would understand the bonds of friendship between all of the Enterprise crew, and the dedication to the welfare of all that each one felt. Since deciding in favor of friendship, Hikaru hadn't looked back. hadn't regretted; because these bonds had proved so strong in all of them.

"I had a decision to make: stay on Earth, go through debriefing, and take the next command assignment that came along in… say a few months; or go with Jim and take my chances." He shrugged. "It was as simple as that."

Terry thought all he had heard over for a moment and smiled. "So that's what you thought I should hear?"

Hikaru nodded. "Starfleet doesn't have any business knowing any of it, but you do. If nothing else, I owe you an explanation of why I did it. You can accept it or not—"

"Hikaru," Terry said solemnly, "I never questioned your decisions when you were my captain, and I don't see any reason to start now. You did what you had to. You don't have to explain that to me."

"I'm glad. I just wanted to be sure. Maybe I just wanted to see how it sounded when I said it all aloud. If you need to get back now," he said, standing, "that's all I wanted to say."

Terry put his hand out in a "sit down" gesture. "No, there's something I wanted to tell you about."

Hikaru caught the puzzled expression on his face. "Problem?"

"In the classic sense. A problem in cosmic physics."

"You meant celestial."

"I mean _cosmic_. I'm talking about—"

A familiar voice interrupted him. "Excuse me, gentlemen." It was Spock. Neither of them had heard him approach. "I hadn't realized you were still out here."

"That's quite all right, Mr. Spock," Hikaru said. "We weren't discussing anything private. In fact, Lt. Metcalfe has a bit of a physics problem he wanted to discuss."

Spock's eyebrow perked in that familiar manner he was re-acquiring. "Indeed? My knowledge of physics: has been restored to the level I believe it was at before. Perhaps I might be of assistance?"

Hikaru grinned at Spock's innocent fascination with all matters scientific. As ever, he approached all new knowledge with enthusiasm; but there was something of a childlike quality to him now.

"Perhaps you might," Terry agreed. "In fact, I can't think of anyone more qualified."

"I don't believe I can be considered officially qualified, however, I possess the necessary knowledge to discuss—"

Terry and Hikaru cut him off with quiet laughter. Spock seemed puzzled, but did not question their behavior. Terry went on to explain that _Phoenix_ had briefly sighted what appeared to be the _Enterprise_ over the cooling Genesis remnants. Apparently, some kind of time ripples had sprung into being between Genesis and some other planet—a planet listed as "classified."

Hikaru found himself lost by all of this, and was glad that Spock had joined them. His own astrophysical knowledge, while far greater than average, did not include disturbances in the space-time continuum. And the appearance of the _Enterprise_ , be it their own or that of another universe, shook him to his core.

Spock was enthralled by the account. "Lieutenant," he asked finally, "could you show me what this pattern of disturbances looked like?"

Terry looked around the bench where he and Hikaru sat and found a patch of soft soil among the stones of the walkway. Apparently, a plant had recently died or been uprooted, as it was the only spot like it in the garden. Kneeling on the stone, he traced his finger in a football-shaped pattern in the dirt. "That's what the computer projection showed," he explained. He stabbed one end of the football. "That's Genesis—or what's left of it."

"And Ensign Sernak believed the _Enterprise_ phenomenon to be directly related to this pattern of disturbances?" Spock asked.

"Yes."

Spock looked thoughtful. "I agree. The odds in favor of it are quite high. Further, I would speculate that the effects of this anomaly will increase with time." 

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Hikaru asked.

Spock nodded. "Definitely. You see, it would appear that a rift has formed, not only in the fabric of our universe, but in the fabric of another as well. The two rifts would seem to be adjacent, causing a bridge to form between this universe and another. These ripples, as the Lieutenant calls them, are the result of that bridge—in this case bridges, as there seem to be two—causing stress on the fabric of time and space around them."

"Two bridges?" Hikaru was growing more confused by the moment.

Spock pointed at the two endpoints of the diagram. These two worlds, Genesis and the other, would appear to be the locations of the rift-bridges between the two universes. Somehow, both of these worlds were involved in the occurrence which caused the phenomenon in the first place."

"What could cause it?"

"Unknown."

"Could it have been the result of the Genesis effect itself?" Terry asked.

"Possible, but unlikely. You see, that does not explain the presence of another bridge. Personally, I would find it most likely that this 'bridged universe' is a sub-universe of our own, formed at some recent point in time, but unable to break free of the parent universe."

Hikaru looked to Terry and found that his expression of dismay mirrored his own.

"Sub-universe?" he asked.

"You are familiar, I take it, with the existence of alternate—what we often call 'parallel'—universes? As you know, it is possible for different universes to interphase—cross over one another for brief periods of time. It has been speculated that these interphases are the result of some sort of drift, or rotational shift, in universes themselves. What we have here appears to be an example of extended contact between two universes. In order to explain this, I would find it easiest to imagine that the two universes were originally one, and that they only recently split. Something, however, is preventing them from splitting completely."

"How can one universe split into two?" Hikaru asked.

"In fact," Spock explained, "such splits may be occurring all the time. Recent theory and calculation in this field suggest that it is possible. Imagine a critical point in time, a point of decision. At such a point, one of two events can occur. Now, imagine that both events do, in fact, occur. One in one universe, and one in another. In a sense, at that point, two universes are created where one existed before: one universe to fulfill each possibility. As we know, such critical points occur constantly, even the most minor decisions causing a new universe to form."

"Then while we've been talking," Hikaru thought out loud.

"—Countless universes have sprung into being," Spock finished. "One in which you did ask that question, one in which, you didn't… in fact, countless universes must exist where the three of us have not and never will have this conversation."

Hikaru shook his head. "Makes me dizzy just to think about it."

"It is," Spock agreed, "an overwhelming statement of infinity. In the case we have here, it would seem that a paradox of sorts has come into being. Something that could not possibly occur has occurred; and, while another universe has formed, it has not been able to sever itself completely from our universe."

"And how." Hikaru asked finally, "could that be dangerous?"

"If the paradox which caused this phenomenon is not resolved," Spock said gravely, "the stress caused by its very existence might well bring about the destruction of both universes."

* * *

"How long do you think the stay will be effective?" McCoy heard Uhura ask as he approached the door.

"Uncertain," Sarek replied. "The officials involved on the Federation end of this matter are, for the most part, human. Humans are notoriously unpredictable. We must move Swiftly in building a case for your defense. I would not advise assuming that we have more than a few days—even though we might. This entire affair will be quite a complex problem in logic for all those involved."

McCoy cleared his throat, causing the other two to look up and notice that he had joined them. "I'm afraid we have a complication you weren't aware of. Ambassador," he said. "And it doesn't involve logic."

Uhura, seeing how worried he was, came immediately forward and took his arm "What's wrong, Len?" she asked.

"Jim." he told her. "Jim is very wrong. I've been observing him closely since we got here, and—I'm becoming concerned… " he couldn't bring himself to come right out and say what he believed the truth to be.

"Exactly what do you believe to be Jim's difficulty, Doctor?" Sarek asked. Since their return from Genesis, Sarek had returned to his customary practice of addressing Kirk by name. His concern for his son had made him very detached recently. Now he could afford to be a little less Vulcan.

"He, ah," McCoy swallowed hard. "He may not be mentally competent to stand trial."

He heard Uhura gasp, but was afraid to look at her. "Which means he'll probably be placed in a rehabilitation colony."

Sarek nodded at that horrible idea. "Indeed. He will probably also be discharged from Starfleet—honorably or dishonorably, depending on the generosity of the trial board. " He paused, for a moment appearing to sigh in a human manner. "Are you sure, Doctor?"

And only a human would ask such a question, searching for hope. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. Unless there were a sudden improvement, he's headed toward a complete breakdown."

Sarek waited a moment and said, "Unfortunate. Without his testimony—in fact, without his presence—the rest of you will find yourselves facing far greater chances of being convicted. In any event, it would seem unlikely that Jim will ever command again."

A sob escaped Uhura. McCoy looked at her at last, to see her face buried in both her hands. He wished he felt up to crying now, but even that was beyond his abilities.

* * *

Depressed, McCoy returned to the room he shared with Kirk. It made him feel better to be with his friend, for all the, good it would do. At the door, he halted.

In the dim light he saw a figure kneeling by Jim's side. His eyes closed in concentration, Spock touched Jim's temples in the classic position of mind meld.

Now what the hell would Spock be doing here? True, in recent days he'd been regaining some of his personal memories; he'd been spending more of his time with Jim, renewing their friendship, But why a mind meld? Did he somehow sense the disturbance in his friend's mind and want to help by joining with him? Perhaps Spock was more emotionally perceptive than McCoy had ever known.

The contact continued for a few moments longer. When Spock finally disengaged and stood, McCoy's eyes met with his. _Well_ , the Doctor's face was saying plainly, _how is he?_

But Spock only shook his head.

* * *

Sarek was still pondering the various complications of the trial, and the implications of what McCoy had said. Logic didn't seem to be working. He felt very much like employing some of those human expletives Amanda had taught him; he had heard Saavik do so occasionally.

Spock entered, seeming perplexed. "Is something troubling you, Spock?" he asked, much in the manner that he used to when Spock was a boy.

But Spock's answer was surprisingly devoid of that child-like quality that had been characteristic of his speech lately. "Yes, Father. I must ask your assistance in solving a problem I have come across."

Sarek wondered what problem Spock could have encountered. Was it a simple problem of mathematics or some other subject Spock was just now completing his learning process in? "Tell me of your problem."

"Lt. Metcalfe has described his ship's encounter with what I believe to be a standing bridge between our universe and another. The bridge would seem to be of recent creation, and I believe it is causing stress on the fabric of time and space which could lead to a catastrophic reaction in both universes. Do you recall T'Gara's paper on the creation of sub-universes?"

Sarek remembered. T'Gara had discussed the paper with him extensively on his last visit to the Vulcan Academy. "I do. What causes you to refer to it here?"

"I can think of no other cause for a standing bridge to exist. In fact, there seem to be two bridges. I believe that a sub-universe has been kept from separating with ours due to a paradox of some kind."

"I believe I follow your reasoning," Sarek told his son, "but, if I may…?" He held his hand out, requesting a mind touch. Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement.

 _Yes, yes. It is clear._ Sarek responded to the touch of Spock's thought patterns. _It is the most probable explanation. I commend your reasoning, Spock._

He found himself pleased that his son was making such efficient use of his re-acquired knowledge. It was a hopeful sign. "What do you propose be done about this anomaly?"

"It must be investigated and the paradox resolved immediately," Spock replied. "I believe I know the first step in the investigation. One of the bridges, according to Lt. Metcalfe, was in a position which seemed familiar to me. I checked for the particular incident in my memory but found it unreachable. I searched Jim's mind, therefore—"

"You and Jim have been to this place together?"

"On a mission, yes. Oddly enough, after being in contact with Jim's mind, I find myself drawn to go there. I believe that the problem can only be solved if I act quickly, without informing the others. I don't understand… why I believe this."

"It is illogical," Sarek observed. He wondered if his son's mind might be still slightly confused after the _Fal Tor Pan_ he had undergone.

"Indeed it is,'' Spock agreed readily. "But that is what I cannot help believing."

"And now," Sarek concluded, "you want my assistance in getting there so that you may carry out whatever actions you believe necessary."

"Precisely. If you could authorize a diplomatic shuttle—"

"Spock, I do not believe it is advisable for you to go out alone in your condition."

"I am fully functional," Spock responded calmly. "And I do not believe anyone else should accompany me."

"Spock, it was never your way before to allow illogic to guide you. You do not know what is causing you to be driven to go to this planet—is it a planet?"

Spock nodded. "But I believe I do know the source of this drive. I first felt it after my mind contact with Jim."

"And how does Jim know this place is the source of the anomaly? There are too many vagaries in this, Spock. If you have been linked with Jim, you know that his sanity is in question. "

"I do," Spock admitted. "And I believe that his mental difficulties are somehow linked to this phenomenon. I sensed in his mind a presence… an intelligence which I have encountered before. It exists on this planet where I wish to go."

"An intelligence?" asked Sarek, intrigued despite himself. "Then you believe that Jim's insanity may be cured?"

"I received that distinct impression."

"These could be the ravings of a mad man, Spock," Sarek cautioned him. "If you go—"

"You're not going anywhere," a voice interrupted harshly from the door. It was Amanda. Apparently, she had heard part of their conversation. "Sarek, you can't be even considering this?" she demanded accusingly.

Spock took her gently by the shoulders. He had always been rather proficient at dealing with her on a human level. "Mother," he said, "there is much at stake here."

"Yes," she agreed, "there is: your life. You can't go gallivanting about the cosmos by yourself! Subjects of the _Fal Tor Pan_ must be closely supervised. Spock, this procedure hasn't been used in—" she broke off frantically. "Thousands of years!"

"The procedure has succeeded admirably, Mother. I am in no danger, but Jim is. His mind is not functioning as it should. If I do this, it might be restored."

Sarek's wife looked to him, questioning. "It is possible there is some truth to this, Amanda. Spock saw it within Jim's mind. He says he felt an intelligence contacting him. The workings of the mind—the subconscious—are not always immediately logical," he reminded her. A student adept in the Vulcan ways knew this, of course; but Amanda was not thinking as a Vulcan student adept. Rather she was thinking as a human mother, as she always did where Spock was concerned.

"It's only a chance!" she insisted. "You can't risk your life on a chance!"

"Can't I?" Spock asked, perhaps with a touch of human feeling. "Jim did. He gave up everything he had to bring me back—even though it was only a chance. I do not remember all of our experiences together, but he is my friend. I owe him a debt. To pass up this chance to save his sanity, his career, would be a crime against friendship, as well as duty. James Kirk is a valuable Starfleet officer. Many lives depend on his continued functioning, and… " he stopped. When he spoke again, he seemed almost to be reciting. "…'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… or the one.'"

Amanda looked from father to son, tears in her eyes. "You really believe you must do this?"

"I have no other choice."

"No," Sarek agreed. "He doesn't. Your argument was quite logical, Spock. I will arrange a shuttle, as you request. May I ask where it is you are going?"

"Are you familiar," Spock asked him, "with the Guardian of Forever?"


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardian of Forever, and a suddenly restored Spock, send Saavik and McCoy on a mission to deconstruct their universe.

CHAPTER FIVE

In the Guardian's central area, the images Saavik and McCoy had observed faded now, obscured by swirling mists. She and the Doctor stood, numbed by what they had seen. He probably did not fully understand as she did what it all meant. He had not had the dream. For the moment, he was spared the pain of knowing how things _must_ be. Knowledge was not always a blessing.

The voice boomed, "Saavik."

"Yes," she responded coolly.

"Now you have seen what must be. Are you willing to do what must be done? I cannot force you, but I believe you know some of the consequences should you refuse."

 _I cannot force you._ True enough, she supposed, but certainly it had seen to it that she would not refuse. What kind of creature would? A low, unprincipled one might, one that placed the lives of a select few above the lives of a universe. Saavik might have—long ago.

Another woman might choose to keep things as they were in this universe—to keep David Marcus alive and the _Enterprise_ intact, to stay within the realm of the known. Saavik wished briefly that she could be such a woman… but only briefly.

"I do not refuse," she said slowly. Perhaps no four words had ever been so painful.

When all was done, Spock would live again, but others would die—others she… cared for.

McCoy finally recovered from his shocked silence and began to ask a question. "Guardian—"

But it cut him off with another order for silence. Its vaporous interior began to swirl again, grey shades of gas becoming colors, warm and cool refractions and reflections of light formed that could not exist anywhere but in this ancient gateway. The colors became more real, and an image began to form. Saavik had already deduced what was about to happen, but she doubted that the Doctor had. She hoped that his highly emotional psyche could withstand another shock today.

Using these bizarre lights, the Guardian painted a masterful image of their deceased comrade, Spock. It was perfect in every detail, so accurate that it might be the original. Within a matter of moments, it became the original as the space/time transference was completed.

Calmly examining his new surroundings, Spock adjusted his coat against the cold and nodded to Saavik in greeting, indicating their shared knowledge of what was to come.

McCoy rushed forward, blurting, "I don't believe it!"

Spock's eyebrow raised in an all-too-familiar manner. "You have seen the events that occurred in my universe, Doctor. Didn't you suspect this?"

"Well, dammit!" McCoy exclaimed, looking more irritated now than he was shocked, "how was I supposed to understand all that? For your information, I was practically dragged here against my will! No one gave me the faintest hint as to what the hell was going on!"

The Guardian spoke. "I regret that you were so sadly uninformed, McCoy; but even Saavik and Spock had little knowledge of what they would discover when they came to me. The methods used were-by necessity—not the most forthright."

"Well, now that we all know, could someone please tell me what's going on-in English?"

"All that is necessary will be explained now," it said. How odd, Saavik thought, that the Guardian should classify its statement in such a manner. Why should it feel the need to dispense on a need-to-know basis? "As you have now seen, a rift, or bridge, exists between the two universes. Spock was correct in deducing that this universe is a sub-universe of his own. He is also correct in his speculation that both universes will be destroyed if their differences are not soon reconciled. A paradox exists in time, and it must be eliminated.

"Toward this end, I have had you brought here; and I have restored Spock's mind to its former state for the duration of his stay in this universe. Spock, Saavik, in your minds are the plans which must be followed in order to carry out your mission. Using them, and me, you will journey into this universe's past and make the changes necessary to restore time to its proper form."

Again, McCoy had a question. "Guardian, how did this rift or whatever it is occur in the first place? Was it some kind of accident?"

"Indeed it was not. Necessity caused it."

It did not seem to Saavik that McCoy's questions were being very well answered—nor did it seem so to McCoy. "What?" he demanded.

"I cannot explain further," it said in final tones. "Go and do what must be done."

Even Spock grimaced somewhat. "As always, it couches its answers in riddles. However, we have more important matters at hand than finding the answers to trivial questions. Dr. McCoy… "

McCoy was still staring at the Guardian in dismay. "Huh… oh, what?"

"We are ready to begin now. Saavik and I will effect changes in history as the Guardian has instructed us. You must go to Jim and divert his suspicions from our operation. Please keep in mind that at no time must he be allowed to come to the Guardian or uncover any information regarding my 'rebirth.'"

"That's a pretty tall order, Spock!"

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed. And I can think of no one more qualified to carry it out."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," McCoy said pointedly. "I want to know what you two are going to be up to now that the Guardian has placed all this mystic information in your minds."

"There is no mysticism involved, Doctor. Somehow, the Guardian—or something—touched the mind of Jim Kirk in my universe. When I had occasion to join with him, as I take it you saw, I discovered the knowledge it had left there for me. Upon reaching the Guardian itself, I found all of my previous memories restored to me."

"Well… I suppose if anyone could do it, that thing could," McCoy admitted. "Saavik, did you receive your information through mind contact too?"

"Through a series of dreams, to be precise," she replied. "Like Spock, I felt more a drive to come here than any coherent set of instructions. Now that I have seen the events from Spock's universe, the vagaries of my dreams have fallen into place. I now know what I must do."

"And that is… ?"

She looked briefly at Spock, uncomfortable, for some reason, as their eyes met.

Spock explained. "The changes which took place in your universe were the result of certain decisions being made differently by certain individuals than they were in my universe. In order to accomplish our purpose, Saavik and I must alter the minds of these individuals—"

"You mean _control_ them?"

"Not precisely. We shall free their minds of certain inhibitions which would prevent them from making the proper decisions. Somehow, these inhibitions have formed—or been placed—in their minds."

"Placed by who?"

Spock shook his head. "Unknown. It is enough to know that it has happened, however, and that it must be corrected."

"I suppose," the Doctor muttered. "Do we have to… " he began, looking somewhat apprehensive. "I mean, does what we saw have to occur? Is that the reality we must restore?"

"For the sake of both universes, yes," Spock replied, adding, "I am sorry."

"But when we reconcile the two universes, won't this one cease to exist?"

Saavik chose to answer this. "In a manner of speaking, Doctor, yes—if we are successful. But, if we are not, suffering will occur in both universes… and it will be quite real." She wished there were some way she could escape the suffering—some way that Spock and David both could live. For that she would gladly give a universe! No, she was a Starfleet officer. Her duty was to the Federation. She could not forsake that duty for the happiness of one woman.

"But, Jim… " McCoy protested. Saavik understood the unvoiced question. _Must Jim Kirk go mad?_

"If we _are_ successful, Doctor," Spock explained, "both universes will benefit in the reconciliation. We _must_ do this."

Saavik wondered if Spock honestly believed that, or if he were merely "exaggerating" for the Doctor's sake. Whichever it was, his statement had the desired effect. McCoy quietly nodded his understanding.

"Very well, then," Spock said. "If we are ready to begin, you and Saavik, Doctor, must return must return to the ship and allow it to go on its way. You will stay with Jim and keep his suspicions allayed, and Saavik will return here as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible."

"How is she gonna do that?" McCoy asked.

Unfortunately, Saavik had no answer for him. She hadn't given the matter of returning to the Guardian great thought, but of course she must go back to the _Enterprise_. Kirk would never let her simply stay here. No, she would have to sneak away, using the skills of thievery she'd learned on Hellguard. "I suppose I will find passage back on some ship once we reach base."

"I don't know how you'll manage without raising suspicions," McCoy said skeptically.

"It would take the craftiness of a Jim Kirk to do it. Unfortunately, he's not available."

"No," Spock agreed, "but perhaps another is. If you could enlist the aid of a fellow officer, Saavik—"

McCoy's eyes lit. "What about Metcalfe?"

"Indeed, an excellent suggestion, Doctor. If you will go to Mr. Metcalfe and explain the situation to him—"

Saavik had been unable to prevent a brief facial twinge when the helmsman's name was brought up. That her control was so slack embarrassed her—especially in the presence of Spock. As she feared, he noticed her slip and stopped to question her.

"Does that recommendation trouble you, Saavik?"

Saavik hesitated only a moment, and McCoy answered for her—not quite in the way she had intended to. "I wonder if it might have something to do with Mr. Metcalfe's… attraction to her?" he asked in that absurdly impish tone that humans took on when they wished to make light of another for their own amusement. "Perhaps it's a sentiment that's returned?"

She only narrowly avoided blushing, and her years among civilized beings only barely stopped her from tearing the Doctor's jugular open with her bare hands. She must be calm, McCoy had not intentionally offended her… had he?

The slightest of smiles came to Spock's lips. Saavik had seen it often, but she was surprised that he would allow himself such a luxury in front of his eternal opponent, Dr. McCoy. "If I may say so, Saavik, you may find the Lieutenant's feelings to be to your benefit. Human emotions do have their positive applications."

Saavik couldn't keep from showing open astonishment. "Spock, are you suggesting that I take advantage—"

"He's suggesting," McCoy finished boldly, "that you make use of something we used to call 'feminine wiles' on Earth. I believe you'll find them quite effective on our young Mr. Metcalfe."

To Saavik, the whole idea seemed unethical; but there was much at stake here. There were times when ethics took second priority. She nodded agreement.

"Very well," Spock said. "I believe it is time for the two of you to return."

"Right," McCoy said, withdrawing his communicator. He stopped for a moment. "Spock," he said gently, "if I don't see you again—"

"You will," Spock assured him.

McCoy nodded and signaled the _Enterprise_. Saavik walked over to Spock and briefly touched her fingers against his palm in a display of open affection she could not help but engage in. The last time she had touched this hand, it had been cold and dead. Now, it was alive with the heat of a living Vulcan. Spock's hand pressed briefly against hers, and then pulled away. "Take the utmost care," he said to her, and then glanced to the Doctor with a gleam in his eye and added, "both of you."

She joined McCoy and the transporter washed over them both, leaving Spock alone.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saavik says goodbye to David Marcus, then enlists Lieutenant Metcalfe as her partner in crime.

CHAPTER SIX

Accepting Saavik's voice print, the computer-activated door slid open into the access corridor which led to Regula's main reception area. The last time she had been here, the station had been cold and dark and strewn with bodies of the victims of Khan Singh's mad attempt to appropriate the Genesis project.

Now it had been restored after two months of labor on the parts of the remaining Genesis team and a Starfleet work crew. Saavik wondered how much of the actual work Carol Marcus and her colleagues had found themselves able to actually participate in. This laboratory complex was a vessel for horrible memories for those who had survived the _Reliant_ affair as well as those of the Genesis personnel who had returned from leave only to discover that the project had come to an end after years of dedicated labor with the deaths of their friends.

Coming into the reception area—now bright and warm—Saavik presented her ID to one of the guards sent by Starfleet to maintain the security of the wrecked installation. The rather dull-faced man passed her through after glancing at the card and raising a disinterested eyebrow. Saavik wondered if he realized that, officially, she had no business being here. 

The corridor she entered now was darker, less clean. The concentration of the efforts had apparently been on cleaning up the public areas, not the research facility itself. Saavik recognized this corridor: it was the one she, Kirk and McCoy had first beamed into that day weeks ago.

She would never forget the atrocities committed by Khan Singh. Even though she had seen considerable brutality from the Romulans, this kind of pure, unyielding cruelty was beyond her experience. The bruises on the body of a man—she had later learned his name was Del March—who had literally been beaten to death in Khan's quest for knowledge had engraved themselves permanently on her memory—every bit as permanently as the bruises she had received on Hellguard had made permanent marks on her body.

But at least David Marcus had survived. She had taken consolation in this fact.

Now, any consolation the thought had brought her earlier was voided by what she had learned at the Guardian. David would die soon, as well, painfully. She had come here to say goodbye.

The door's sensor activated, and it opened to reveal the computer room of Genesis.

It was still filled with the terminal and huge memory banks that had been needed to conntain all the precious information. However, it was comparatively late at night, and none of the personnel who would normally work here were at their posts. Except for one man at a terminal in the back of the room, it was abandoned.

He looked as Saavik had expected him to—of course, it was illogical to have expectations. One should merely wait for events to take their course and observe their outcome. Lately, however, Saavik had found that her logic was not what it used to be. She hadn't yet decided whether this change was for the better or the worse.

David was perched over his screen, studying his data intently. He squinted, as the room was dark compared to the bright computer display. He obviously hadn't heard the door open. Perhaps he was tired; judging by his appearance he was. His blonde hair was scattered randomly about his head and he hadn't applied beard repressor to his face for a number of days.

Somehow, his ragged appearance was aesthetically pleasing to Saavik. She smiled as she studied him, sitting carelessly on the chair and leaning one elbow on the desk.

As always, he was attractive. Looking at him brought back memories of times aboard the _Enterprise_ … Saavik realized uncomfortably that it was somewhat absurd to spend time gazing at another individual's physical appearance, wallowing in one's emotional and physical responses to their presence.

She said quietly. "David?"

He looked up as though he had just been awakened from a sound sleep. When he saw her. a smile broke out on his face and he rushed forward and took her in his arms. As they embraced, he spoke frantically. "I'm so glad to see you! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

She pulled back from him, holding both his hands. "I… cannot stay long. I took a brief leave from duty."

"Can't stay?" he asked disappointedly, but still with a smile on his face.

"I must return to the _Enterprise_ soon." she explained. "There are many things to be done before we leave Earth again."

He laughed, bewildered. Saavik had often wondered about his tendency to find humor in things he didn't understand. "Then why did you make a special trip7"

She hesitated. Of course, she couldn't tell him the truth; but she didn't find lying an easy thing to do. "I… wanted to see you. Is that not sufficient motive?"

He shrugged. "It'll do for now." At least she had told him part of the truth. She _did_ want to see him, she just hadn't said why. She stayed longer than she'd intended to, as she had been afraid she might. It was difficult to leave. They discussed many trivial things—David's plans after Genesis, the activities aboard the _Enterprise_ , David's father. She told him of the events surrounding the destruction of the _Excalibur_ and of the mind meld she had shared with Kirk.

David was fascinated. "So you saved my father's life?" He grinned. "Thank you."

Saavik looked down at her feet. "I—there is no need to thank me. I did what I had to."

David laughed and shook his head. "Vulcan," he said accusingly.

Saavik considered the validity of his taunt. Until recently, she had considered herself a full Vulcan—even though she was not. Had that changed? Was she something different, something less than Vulcan, or perhaps something more? "That is partially true," she responded blandly.

"I've never heard you deny it before."

"I do not deny it, I merely point out that it is only a partially factual statement."

"Whoa, you _are_ laying it on thick, aren't you?" he observed. "Is something wrong?"

She did not respond. Yes, something was wrong; but she couldn't tell him about it.

"I am rather tired," she responded lightly. It bothered her that lying became easier as one gained experience at it.

He reached forward and took her hands again. "Would it perk you up if we went for a walk? We could beam into the Genesis cave, I haven't seen it in a while. We might even be able to find Vance's dragons," he added playfully.

Instinctively, Saavik's jaw tightened at the mention of dragons. In the plans for

the huge Genesis cave inside the asteroid Regulus, Dr. Vance Madison had marked one section, "Here be dragons." Of course, there could be none. They had not been programmed into the matrix. Dr. Madison had had, she was told, a rather unusual sense of humor.

But through the Guardian, when she had observed David's death, she had heard his last words. He had mentioned those very dragons. His playful reference now brought her pain. "I cannot go, David, much as I would like to. I must return to the _Enterprise_ , and I am overdue now." As she stood, she reached out suddenly and impulsively kissed him.

"What was that for?" David asked.

"I… I felt like it. Spock always told me I should… not deny my feelings."

David moved forward to stand close to her. "What are your feelings, Saavik?" he asked seriously.

She stepped back from him, afraid he might detain her further with physical contact—afraid she might not go if he touched her again. "I… I love you. And… and I hope someday… that we get to see Vance's dragons." She wasn't sure whether or not she'd consciously tried to repeat what would be his last words to her, but she'd done so nonetheless.

Puzzled, David smiled at her. "There are no dragons, Saavik."

Hardly conscious of her actions, she fled the room and ran down the corridors to the turbo lift. Once the doors had shut her in, she slumped against the wall.

In her mind, she heard again the words she and David had exchanged as he died.

_I love you. And I wish… I wish we could have seen Vance's dragons… Oh, David. David, love, there are no dragons._

_There are no dragons._

For ten years, Saavik had controlled her emotions. She had rarely laughed or smiled or lost her temper. She had rarely cried. Now, suddenly, she found she couldn't stop.

* * *

The _Enterprise's_ scheduled layover time at Starfleet headquarters was thirty days.

Of those thirty, junior officers were allotted twenty-one for leave after making reports to their respective superiors. Senior officers stayed an additional six days aboard after their subordinates left to prepare their departments for any maintenance required. And the captain left last of all. He had two weeks' vacation before returning to the ship to get all ready for the launch—that is, assuming that a captain was allowed to return to his vessel by the admiralty. Many were removed from command to take positions elsewhere in the Fleet—hopefully elevated positions. But James Kirk had returned.

It had not been a certainty that he would, of course; but Saavik had calculated the odds to be in his favor. In the month that she had worked with him, she had found Kirk extremely resourceful—and persuasive. With enough effort, she had found it quite likely that he could convince the Admiralty to give him back the _Enterprise._ Apparently, he had done just that. Saavik wondered how, but she would not have time to ask him.

Soon it would not matter anyway.

She met him as he was preparing to enter his cabin. There would be no better time for her to ask him for yet another "favor." She was apprehensive as she debated what his response would be after her behavior earlier. Kirk,. she knew, must have been upset by receiving so little information about her trip to the Guardian.

McCoy, of course, had saved Saavik from too many questions by telling the Admiral that his patient should not be bothered at this time. Saavik suspected that the Doctor had also come up with some sentimental excuse of some sort for her visit… Perhaps he had explained that it was a memoriam of sorts for Spock. Kirk, after all, did not know that Saavik's memorial for her teacher had been carried out months ago in a darkened stasis chamber on board this very ship, nor did he know that any memorial for Spock would serve no purpose now.

Kirk smiled pleasantly as she approached him. "Well, Mr. Saavik, did you enjoy your leave?"

"I believe it would be accurate to say that I did, sir," she replied, wondering what Spock would think of her "exaggeration."

"I'm glad you did," he said. "It'll be a long time before the next one."

"I take it, then, that you were successful in your bid to re-establish your command?"

Kirk smiled his mysterious smile which meant: "What you have said is not precisely true, but I shall not explain further," and said, "You take it correctly… Are you ready to resume your post?"

Illogically, Saavik wished he had not asked that question. Now she would be forced to make her request, as she had no intention of returning to her post just yet. This was what she had heard her human colleagues refer to as the "moment of truth."

"I regret that I am not, Admiral."

Kirk's face registered surprise. "Why not?"

"I must request an additional leave, sir. I realize that this is somewhat inconvenient, but I do have the accumulated time." Only after saying all of this did Saavik realize that she had not breathed at all while speaking.

"May I ask why?" he said with somewhat forced patience. Kirk often grew annoyed when he didn't understand what was happening around him.

Saavik considered responding simply, "You may ask," but chose not to. Kirk did not seem to be in the mood for "little jokes." Instead, she told him simply, "I have personal reasons, sir."

Kirk appeared to be considering that seriously. He could deny her request easily, of course, and she would have to go anyway—as he would in her place. "Admiral," she said suddenly, "I realize that you must be somewhat mystified by my recent behavior."

He nodded emphatically. "Somewhat."

She met his eyes and said levelly, "If I promise you that, after this leave, my behavior will return to normal, will you grant it? I will trouble you no further afterward."

He thought for a moment, and said finally, "One month, no questions asked. And this had better be the end of it."

"Thank you, Admiral. I assure you it will be."

Terry Metcalfe practically leaped off the transporter platform, hefting his slipping bag irritably back onto his shoulder as he made quickly for the door. In the undeveloped Appalachian region of the North American continent where his parents and family owned a semi-secluded home, public transportation was still backwards. The cross-continental shuttle had been late departing from the station and had delayed his arrival in San Francisco by over an hour.

Terry was never one to make plans far in advance, and anyone else's delays always seemed to slow him down past his deadline. He never took such delays into account and thus was often late, as he was now. He hoped he could reach Kirk's quarters in time for check-in. His position as a department head required that he report directly to the Admiral.

At the door, he was intercepted. Just as he was about to go out, the door opened for someone on the other side, and Saavik, surprised by his forward dash, stood blocking his path.

"I've been looking for you," she said without preamble.

A rush of boyish excitement went through Terry at these words. The thought that Saavik had been looking for him was a pleasant one indeed. "What's up?"

Saavik levelled her eyes with his and said seriously, "I need your help."

"Mine?" Her Vulcan seriousness was sharper than ever. Something was troubling her.

"Sure, anything."

"Do not pledge yourself too easily, Terry," she said, taking his arm gently and leading him to the door. "Come with me, there is much to explain." In the corridor, Saavik's manner convinced Terry not to ask her any questions yet. He knew she would tell him everything when she was ready.

She led him into a turbo lift and down the corridor on deck five which led to sickbay. When she headed for McCoy's office, Terry couldn't help asking, "What are we doing here?" But Saavik didn't answer him. Instead, she walked determinedly through the door, neglecting the buzzer. Strange, barging in on people—McCoy, of all people—wasn't her style. 

The Doctor wasn't alone inside. Standing by the desk, Scotty was gulping down the contents of a glass and saying, "I'm sorry, Doctor, I really canna stay ena longer. If—" he stopped as Terry and Saavik came in. "Metcalfe, lad!" he said grinning, "did ye enjoy yer shore leave? Hullo, Saavik," he added with a wink, much to the young Vulcan's mystification. "I was jus' goin'—"

"Stay, Scotty," ordered McCoy. "Saavik will explain everything now."

"Aye? It's aboot time someone did." He turned to the two lieutenants, "D'ye know he pulled me outta me engine room, babblin' aboot some crucial problem that only I could help him wi', an' now he hasn't said a word!"

Saavik nodded. "I know, Commander. Dr. McCoy and I do have a problem we need your help with. If you will be patient, we will explain it now."

She seemed hesitant to begin, and Terry prompted. "We're listening, Saavik, what's wrong?"

"The explanation is somewhat lengthy and, I am afraid, not easily understandable. It concerns the planet we visited before our layover here—the Time Planet."

 _Time Planet?_ Terry wondered. Odd name. Of course, Admiral Kirk had been very careful not to say anything about the world they had diverted from their assigned course to visit. And it was no wonder. Even the world's name evoked curiosity, and Starfleet couldn't afford to have certain factions being too curious about its restricted worlds.

"We, uh, we were summoned there," McCoy explained. "Or, rather, Saavik was, by the Guardian of Forever."

Scotty, whose eyes were widening somewhat, obviously had heard that name before.

"It's a sort of gateway," he said. "A gateway thru time. Y'can go inta the past or future using it. And it seems t'be… intelligent, I suppose."

"Oh," Terry said, more confused.

"This being," Saavik went on, "is indeed quite intelligent. Although I had never heard of it until recently, it contacted me through a series of dreams. Although I thought them at first to be simple nightmares, I began to perceive a presence behind them. And I felt drawn to go to the Time Planet."

"Jim took thot as a reason t'divert?" Scotty asked.

"No," Saavik replied, "he did not. It wasn't until Drs. McCoy and Chapel examined me and recommended to the Admiral that I be taken there that he diverted the ship."

"I also had to do a bit of talking to convince Jim to let us go down alone," McCoy pointed out.

"Why did ye go alone?"

"Because my dream told me that Admiral Kirk was in danger. It was vital that he remain behind—for his own protection."

"Forgive me, Lieutenant," Scotty said, "but when did ye start lis'nin t'yer dreams?"

"Dreams, Commander, are the only method of communicating with the sub-conscious mind. Your Earth psychologists realized that centuries ago. The Guardian placed its information in my subconscious—I suppose it was the Guardian, however I cannot be sure. At any rate, the information emerged in the form of dreams."

"So," McCoy continued, "after I convinced Jim that Saavik would be safe with me alone, we went to see the Guardian. Interesting show, too." There was a touch of pain behind the accustomed sarcasm in the Doctor's voice. "It would seem that we're not living in the real world."

"What?" Scotty asked.

"What the Doctor means," explained Saavik, "is that the Guardian showed us images of another universe—a universe where events did not run as they have here. Because of a time paradox, this alternate universe is bridged with ours."

"How could a time paradox bridge universes?" Terry asked, feeling in over his head.

He wasn't too sure about the concept of alternate universes, even though his physics classes at the academy had covered the subject extensively. He hadn't exactly passed that exam with flying colors.

"You must first understand the accepted theories regarding the formation of multiple universes. The Vulcan scientist T'Gara, an authority on the subject, has speculated that universes reproduce—in a manner of speaking—by division. You can picture it as something like fission in one-celled creatures. Each time a point of decision is reached, a universe branches into many parts.

"Suppose you have a point at which there are many possible outcomes. At such a point, time can follow many paths, but only follows one, eventually. T'Gara suggests, however, that at each point of decision, a new universe comes into being to satisfy each possible outcome. Thus, at every moment, new universes are springing into being.

"What we have here is a case of one universe which has split at a decision point but has not fully separated. We are living in the sub-universe which was created from a parent universe of sorts. Because of this paradox, our universes are bridged—tied together. Such a bridge threatens the stability of both universes. If maintained, it will result in catastrophe which will span all of space. In the alternate universe, the consequences have already begun. The most obvious example concerns that world's Admiral Kirk."

"Jim?" Scotty asked.

Saavik nodded seriously. "Admiral Kirk… went mad."

Scotty was shaking his head. "Allo'this. I jus' don' know."

"She's telling the truth, Scotty," McCoy confirmed.

"Aye, Leonard, I'm sure she is; but it's vera difficult t'grasp. Besides, why are ye tellin' us this? Shouldn't ye be tellin' someone else?"

"Like who?" McCoy asked. "We can't tell Jim—if he knew what was happening to his 'other self,' his own sanity might be in danger. And Starfleet would hardly believe any of this."

"Don't you have any evidence?" Terry asked. "Something you could show the Admiralty?"

Saavik shook her head. "None that would be conclusive. Of course, there are Mr.

Chekov's discrepancies in the logs."

"Aye!" Scotty said, remembering, "the transmission from _Phoenix_."

"Obviously received during a period of interphase between universes. The crew of the _Phoenix_ saw us and attempted to contact the ship. We recorded the message, but we did not hear it. That is only the first symptom of the complications of interphase—"

"Aye," Scotty said, "we've been through interphase before. When we were lookin'

fr' the _Defiant_ , we found her in th'middle of it. The area o' space went wild! Madness, death… "

"And those," Saavik pointed out, "were the consequences of a normal period of inter-universal contact, which lasts only minutes under natural conditions. This interphase, however, is an extended one—indefinitely extended. Both universes will suffer the effects you speak of on a massive scale. Eventually they will both collapse when the fabric of space has been stressed past its tolerance point."

"So what can we do to help?" Terry asked.

"By using the Guardian, this anomaly can be corrected; however, Dr. McCoy and I cannot do this alone. I must return to the Guardian, Terry, and I will need you to accompany me. Dr. McCoy will remain behind to create a diversion—Admiral Kirk must not discover our mission. You, Commander Scott, will be needed to aid the Doctor, as well as assisting us with some of the technical aspects of our plan."

"What exactly is your plan?" asked Scotty.

"First things first," McCoy said. "Are you in?"

Scotty sighed. "All right, for Jim's sake, but—"

"No 'buts,' Scotty," McCoy growled.

"I'm in."

Saavik turned to Terry. "And you? I'm afraid your job will be difficult."

He smiled—he had already given her his answer. "I told you: _anything._ "

"Well, now that we've got that established," McCoy said with his best conspiratorial look, "sit down. We've got a bit of planning to do."

* * *

The plans made, Terry had gone to Kirk and requested a leave. Conveniently, he had a great deal of accumulated leave time. Kirk had looked a bit surprised and had asked him if he knew that Saavik had also requested a leave. He had lied and said that he didn't—that his father was scheduled to receive an artificial heart next week, and that he felt he would be needed at home. Kirk had given in after making a light-hearted remark about all his junior officers abandoning the ship.

Now, all they needed was a _way_ to get to the Guardian. He had asked Saavik exactly how she intended to, and she had replied by saying, "I was under the impression that you would be able to make the necessary—"

"You want me to steal a ship."

"No. That would be a rather extreme course of action. If you could simply get us aboard a ship in that area… "

A plan had come together in his mind almost immediately. It would require Scotty's help, but that was why Saavik and McCoy had brought him in on this. He and Saavik had come back to the Doctor's office and moved to join him at the computer console. Terry settled himself in in front of the terminal and spoke. "Computer."

The screen flared to life. "Working."

"Request security procedure and access to command assignment file."

"Identify for retina scan."

Terry noticed Saavik looking at him with an eyebrow raised as if asking, "Well?" He grinned and inserted a tape from McCoy's desk into the small box Scotty had supplied him with.

Saavik's eyebrow rose even higher as Kirk's voice came out of the speaker on the small, innocent-looking machine. "Kirk, Admiral James T., requesting bypass for retina scan."

"Authorization?" asked the machine.

"Computer," said McCoy, "this is Ship's Surgeon Leonard McCoy. Retina scan please." A beam of light came from the console and hit McCoy's eye.

"Security scan approved," it said.

"Request bypass of retina scan for Kirk, Admiral James T. Injuries sustained prevent normal scan procedure."

"Acknowledged. Identify for voice print."

Terry inserted another tape into Scotty's machine. "Kirk, Admiral James T."

"Security scan approved."

The screen presented a menu of files in the command records. Terry called up the assignments chart for fleet vessels. There were three in the vicinity of the Time Planet. One was familiar. Terry laughed quietly and began to play the keyboard again. He had found their ship.

Calling up the personnel orders, he asked the computer to display his own and Saavik's.

In the assignments column, he made the necessary changes and encoded a new destination for the two of them. The computer digested it and asked, "Authorization?"

Terry punched a final tape. "This is Admiral James T. Kirk. Orders effective stardate: 8147.3. Final authorization granted."

"Acknowledged."

Terry grinned at Saavik and McCoy. "Computer off."

Saavik was practically gaping. "Are you sure that was an advisable choice of vessels? It will draw considerable attention. A less conspicuous ship—"

"Would never get us there so quickly," he finished.

McCoy grinned. "I think it was the perfect choice."

Saavik shook her head and said. "I would hardly say so. The _Excelsior_ —"

Terry patted her shoulder. "Relax, I know the head waiter."

As Saavik pondered that reference and McCoy chuckled, Terry went to his quarters to prepare for their trip. They might just pull it off at that. If too many people didn't ask too many questions. Only a few complications remained unaccounted for…

* * *

It wasn't easy explaining to Angela that he would be leaving again so soon after shore leave. She had been the one who insisted that he spend this past month with his family, since he hadn't seen them for so long; but he was sure she wouldn't be happy that he was leaving now on an "emergency mission."

He didn't like to lie—least of all to her. Of course, they couldn't tell anyone about this mission. It was bad enough that there were four of them already. But, to lie... It made him feel guilty, and the guilt was only worsened by the fact that he was going with Saavik. He _had_ to go with Saavik, but still, it seemed wrong—lying to Angela about leaving the ship with someone else.

"But why did they pick you?" she asked as he stood at her desk in her quarters.

Terry tried to respond lightly. "Because they need someone who knows the difference between the anti-matter inducer and the impulse accelerator." He added, "It's only for a couple of weeks." And that was the greatest lie of all. If only he could tell her that they might never see each other again. If only he could hold her and tell her goodbye properly.

But he couldn't let her get suspicious… he couldn't let her know. He couldn't let this look like anything other than a departure for a brief tour of duty aboard another ship which couldn't be mentioned to anyone else. He had to tell her that it would be called "personal leave" by the Admiral because the mission was a sensitive one. He had to laugh while each and every part of him wanted to scream.

"There are other helmsmen on Earth who haven't been assigned yet," Angela was pointing out. "Why couldn't one of them go?"

"I guess Starf1eet wanted someone with experience. Look," he said, knowing he sounded annoyed and trying to correct it… but failing. "I don't know all of it myself. I've been given my orders and Admiral Kirk's agreed to the whole thing." So many lies, and she would find out the truth so soon. There was no way he would be able to make her understand, and he knew she would hate him for lying to her.

She'd have every right.

Angela was trying to take this well. "When you get back—"

He smiled as best he could. "We'll spend some time together. I… I promise."

She placed her arms lightly about his shoulders and whispered, "Okay, I'll be waiting. Take care, all right?" She kissed him.

"I will," he promised. "And I'll see you soon."

He broke quickly away from her and rushed out the door. Right now, he envied Saavik that infallible control of hers. She wouldn't have any trouble stopping the tears from coming to her eyes.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aboard Excelsior, Saavik briefs Metcalfe on their mission. Kirk and Uhura discover that their junior officers have deceived them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Identity scan indicates two passengers," the computer voice announced. "Identity: Starfleet—active."

 _Okay,_ thought Hikaru Sulu, bemused by the mystery of the entire situation. It wasn't often that an unannounced, unidentified shuttle approached a Federation starship, offering no communication except a request for docking.

As it was a Starfleet, vessel, Hikaru had little choice but to grant clearance.

He had sent for a security force, which stood behind him now, ready in case this was a commandeered shuttle preparing an attack against the Fleet's newest, proudest vessel. Hikaru, however, found this possibility ludicrous, to say the least. He wasn't concerned so much as unbearably curious.

"Release lock," he ordered the computer, "open docking bay hatch."

As requested, the computerized motors pulled the door aside to reveal the contents of the warp shuttle. There were two personnel. He knew both of them, and the secrecy suddenly became even stranger.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" Terry Metcalfe asked with all due officiousness.

"Permission granted." Hikaru grinned. "What the hell is going on?"

Standing next to Terry somewhat stiffly, Saavik produced a tape from her jacket.

"Our orders from Admiral Kirk, Captain. You may scan them at your convenience."

Accepting the tape, Hikaru gave a brief "thank you," and asked, "What's on them?"

Terry shrugged in what appeared to be an attempt at casuality. "Simple, really. You're to take the two of us to the coordinates on the tape and leave us there. _Enterprise_ will be back later to pick us up. It'll give us time to finish our research."

Hikaru didn't like the way Terry looked. He seemed—well, nervous; and that wasn't normal for him. He was too cocky to appear nervous unless something were really wrong. Saavik, too, seemed quieter than usual. What was up? "Why didn't the Admiral alert me beforehand? I didn't receive any message. He'd usually—"

After trading conspiratorial glances with Saavik, Terry explained, "It's a rather… sensitive matter, and it came up suddenly. You see, these are the coordinates for a restricted planet—"

"What planet?"

Hikaru didn't miss Terry's eyes travelling quickly to meet Saavik's before answering.

The gesture was so quick it might have been unconscious. "The Time Planet."

The Time Planet? They knew about the Time Planet? It was odd for junior officers to know of it, considering its strategic importance and the danger of the Klingon and Romulan empires discovering it. It was odder still for two junior officers to be sent there by themselves. Jim must have a good reason, though. He had authorized it… He nodded, pretending understanding—partly because he hated to see them so uptight.

"Is something important going on?"

Terry again smiled casually. "I'm afraid I can't really tell you any more than

that, Hikaru. You understand?"

He seemed open enough now—still the same old friend he'd served with over the past year aboard the border-patrol ship _Phoenix_ , but… but what? "Yeah, sure," he said, smiling. "Top secret." Picking up Saavik's single piece of luggage in an archaically chivalrous gesture and hitting Terry playfully on the shoulder, he said, "C'mon. I'll buy you both a drink."

Later, he'd have to remember to give Jim a call, just to see if everything was all right.

* * *

Captain's log, Stardate: 8149.7

My assignment to the USS _Enterprise_ is permanent now. After a month's shore leave and some much-needed maintenance for the ship, we are preparing to warp out of orbit on our first deep-space exploratory mission in over five years. All is going smoothly, save for the behavior of my chief navigator, Lt. Saavik. She has requested an additional month's leave, which I have granted, but she will not explain what is troubling her. By a strange coincidence—perhaps too strange—Chief Helmsman Metcalfe has also taken a personal leave, effective immediately.

And Dr. McCoy has been acting in a manner which is troubling, yet which cannot be put into words. He is more… brusque than usual. I have regained my command, but some of my crew appear to be falling apart before my very eyes.

Just as Jim Kirk had filed his log entry in the computer, Uhura entered his quarters, looking a bit confused and not a little angry.

He stood. "I was just on my way to the bridge. Is there a problem?"

"Sir," Uhura said in a very restrained tone—she was trying to hold something back. "It is standard procedure to alert the executive officer of any and all crew changes made before launch."

Kirk was lost. Was Uhura mad at him? "What crew changes?"

She was somewhat startled, as if she expected him to know exactly what she was talking about. "Saavik and Terry Metcalfe."

"I informed you of their leaves," Kirk said defensively, "two days ago."

Uhura raised an eyebrow. "I received your memo, Admiral; but it didn't say a word about transfers—even temporary ones."

"Transfers?" Kirk demanded, "what transfers?"

She began to look unsure of herself. "Didn't you give authorization for Saavik and Metcalfe to transfer to _Excelsior_ and go to the Time Planet?"

Kirk felt his jaw drop stupidly. "The Time Planet? I—"

"I got suspicious that both of them were taking a leave at the same time, so I asked the computer for their stated destinations. Instead of leave itineraries, it gave me their orders to board _Excelsior_ and go to the Time Planet. You. issued those orders."

Kirk sat heavily on the edge of his desk. "Uhura, I did nothing of the kind!"

No longer angry, but thoroughly puzzled, Uhura came to sit next to him. "Admiral, the computer doesn't lie. Your signature was on the orders."

"That's impossible," Kirk responded flatly.

Uhura held out a tape cartridge. "It is in the computer."

"As you are well aware, Commander, there are a lot of things that never happened logged in that computer lately." He immediately regretted the anger in his voice. It wasn't her fault if the machines weren't working.

Uhura, as ever, overlooked it. "What did the maintenance crew at Starfleet find?"

"Nothing," he said with great irony. "It's working perfectly. I think I'll have Scotty's people take another look at it." He sighed, taking his glasses off and toying with them momentarily. "I'll be on the bridge in a few minutes. I'll want to talk to Sulu."

She nodded wearily and left.

* * *

The subtle, restrained tones of the Vulcan Sirl's _Kassahl_ , a form of music resembling what would be called a canon on Earth, somehow did not have the effect on her concentration that Saavik had hoped they would. Ordinarily, the methodical, ordered sound helped her to organize her thoughts and keep the Romulan side of her nature under control while she meditated.

After the events of the past days, she badly needed to meditate. After the "escape" from the _Enterprise,_ signing out a warp shuttle without proper authorization, and the harried flight to the _Excelsior,_ her thoughts were a mass of confusion.

To think that she would be travelling using forged orders to a planet which was

off limits to her. That she had deceived her commanding officer, as well as the captain of the _Excelsior_. And, strangest of all, that Spock had helped her plan it! There had been a time when he would not have approved. What, she wondered, made him approve now?

With more violence than she should display, even when she was alone, Saavik slapped the control pad and stopped the tape. The music had done little more than annoy her.

Its excessively subdued tones served to push her thoughts into a greater frenzy. As a matter of fact, she could feel a touch of pain immediately behind her temple. She realized that she was about to develop a headache—an embarrassingly human ailment. Vulcans, due to their control over their emotions and their ability to keep stress from taking control of them, only suffered from them when they were genuinely ill. Saavik had not often been ill, as she hadn't been able to afford it on Hellguard.

It didn't seem to help when the door buzzer went off. Naturally, it would be Terry Metcalfe. She knew no one else aboard the _Excelsior_ save Captain Sulu—and she didn't know him well. After her somewhat skimpy explanation of their problem aboard the _Enterprise_ , she knew that Terry would have many questions.

Actually, she was glad of the opportunity to talk. Despite her headache—she felt vulnerable around humans when she was sick—she wasn't enjoying being alone. She could only think of David. And though she didn't really wish to stop thinking of David, she knew that she could only function if she put him out of her mind. Perhaps Terry could keep her mind from thoughts of David—if anything could.

It was hard not to think about the one thing that often seemed the most important to her.

Seeming surprisingly pleasant, Terry came in at her acknowledgement. He surveyed her guest quarters quietly. She could tell that he had changed and showered—he probably hadn't had a chance to do so since leaving North America. For a fugitive, he looked strangely relaxed. Saavik wondered if she looked as bad as she felt, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Around humans, she didn't like to appear tired or haggard. Emotional creatures that they were, they couldn't help placing high value on appearance, and Saavik had made a point of learning how to "look good." Now, she must certainly appear to be tired and worn—and somewhat unattractive. Terry, on the other hand, looked quite… appealing. He usually did, when she took time to notice. She didn't know why she noticed now.

His face was quite handsome, his eyes intense and expressive, and his body lean and hard as Spock's was. He was not so tall, though. He was about her height, in fact. Saavik wondered if his skin was cool like that of other humans with their low body temperatures…

What nonsense! He was a fellow officer and his physical attributes were therefore irrelevant. Saavik wondered where she had developed this annoying tendency to pay attention to such things as the appearance of human males. She would have to stop; it wasn't logical—especially when there was work to be done.

Terry noticed that the computer playback console was activated. He went to look at the sound unit. "Been listening to music?"

"I was playing a Vulcan arrangement intended to aid in creating a proper atmosphere for recreational meditation," she explained.

"Oh," he nodded and smiled, looking at her. She felt uncomfortable again. "You don't look as if it helped."

How strange that he should surmise that immediately. Humans often surprised her with their perception. "No… I am unable to relax, for some reason. I believe I am suffering from a… headache."

A laugh escaped him briefly. "I'm not surprised." He held up a finger, indicating for her to wait, and went into her bathroom, extracting a small container from the shelf on the wall and filling a glass with water. He came back and held out several tablets. "Pain killers," he explained. "I believe Vulcans are supposed to take three. One is human dosage." He handed her the glass.

Saavik took the tablets, but hesitated to swallow them. "The proper method for relieving mental stress is meditation. Vulcans do not usually—

"Vulcans do not usually have to save the universe on a moment's notice," he finished sharply. Patting her hand, he said, "Go on. I won't tell anyone."

Slowly, she placed the three pills in her mouth and swallowed them. "You'll feel better soon," Terry assured her. He set the glass of water on her desk and settled himself into the chair facing her with a sigh. "And now it's time for you to explain a few things—if it won't make your headache worse."

"No, it won't. What are your questions?"

"What haven't you told me? We have plenty of time to go over it all now."

"I have given you the pertinent facts—if in a somewhat brief account—however,

there are some details I should go over with you. When we arrive at the Time Planet…" she paused. How was she to say this? "Spock will be there waiting for us."

Terry shot forward in his seat, his features suddenly animated. "Spock? Alive?"

"Not 'our' Spock," she told him, "but the one from the alternate universe I spoke of. He has been waiting since Dr. McCoy and I left the Guardian."

"But how?"

"He crossed through into our universe by using the Guardian."

"Then it also acts as a gateway into other universes?" he asked.

"Ordinarily, no, but in this case, it is one of the focal points of the interphase."

Accepting that explanation for the moment, Terry asked, "That theory you were talking about—T'Gara's—does that mean that there are… endless numbers of other universes?"

Saavik nodded as if congratulating a bright student. "For each different effect of a cause, a new universe comes into being. One universe exists for each answer to any question." She smiled, remembering the first day they had met on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. Terry had quoted Tarbolde's poetic description of the infinity of creation: "A galaxy for every creature, a universe for every galaxy."

"Perhaps not so pleasing an expression of infinity as that of Tarbolde, but much more accurate, don't you agree?"

Terry nodded, appreciating the reference, but still filled with curiosity. "Yeah. And the paradox you referred to keeps the two universes from becoming separate?"

"Correct, because they were never intended to be. Our job, therefore, is to see that the two are rejoined."

He grimaced sarcastically. "Great. Now for the big question: How we gonna do that?"

"By using the Guardian," she replied, "we will, the three of us, travel to certain parts of this universe's past and re-alter those factors which were originally tampered with to create the anomaly."

Terry nodded, digesting it all. Saavik had to admit it was a difficult concept for a human to deal with. He seemed to be handling it well. "And my job?" he asked.

"Since Spock would be somewhat conspicuous in those areas into which you will have to travel, you must help him gain access unnoticed and see to it that he has sufficient time to carry out his mission."

He looked suspicious. "What areas?"

"Those where, at that point in time, he couldn't be logically expected to appear. Admiral Morrow's office, for instance—"

"Morrow?" he interrupted loudly. "Harry Morrow? Commander, Starfleet?"

"I assume you are familiar with Admiral Morrow's status and identity, so I do not understand your question."

"Saavik," he explained impatiently, "you do not just walk in on Harry Morrow."

"No," she agreed. "That is why Spock will be counting on you. You have already proven your talent for getting into those places where entry is difficult. We are on our way to the Time Planet, are we not?"

"Oh sure," he admitted. "But do you know how long it'll be before Kirk realizes he's been had by a couple of junior officers?"

"I would estimate 3.76 hours from now."

"Oh."

"Fortunately," she added, "he will not be able to catch us in time."

"You sure?"

"No," she said frankly, "I am not. But Dr. McCoy will be doing his utmost to prevent the Admiral's finding out about our plan."

"Let's hope so," Terry said with a humorless laugh. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Was there? There was much more that could be told, but did he need to know it? More importantly, did she want to tell it? "Not really," she answered finally. "All will be clear to you at the proper time."

Terry regarded her seriously, scrutinizing her answer. Did he suspect that something was troubling her? That there was something she wasn't saying? She wished he would look away. "And after this mission is over," he asked meaningfully, "all will be well with the universe?"

For a long moment, she waited. She didn't believe in lying, much as she had done so recently. She found it difficult. "No," she admitted, "but we must do what we can." Almost against her will, she looked away from his penetrating gaze.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she lied.

"Saavik," he said in the same needling tone McCoy would have used, "I've known only two Vulcans in my life, but they were both lousy liars. Let me tell you, you're no different."

There was no point in lying further. They both knew, as Terry had just made quite clear, that something was wrong. Saavik knew that she had two options now: remain silent or speak. Refusing to speak would only create further curiosity in a human, she had seen that already. "In reconciling the two universes," she explained, "we will lose many things. People will die. Events will be different."

Terry's face drained. "Who will die, Saavik?"

"Many," she said quietly. "The crew of a starship, a handful of Klingons," her answer was given as dispassionately as any list of data she might be reading off on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , but her voice faltered when she came to one particular name.

"And?" he urged gently.

"There are… other factors which may alarm you. The _Enterprise_ will be destroyed."

His face registered quiet horror. "My God—"

"None of the crew will be lost," she told him quickly. "Do not worry about them. But you will not be assigned to the _Enterprise_ as there will be no _Enterprise_ to be assigned to."

His features dropped even further. Slowly, he asked, "Does that mean you and I will never meet?"

"I do not know. From what I have witnessed of the other universe, we may. That is assuming, of course, that the course of the events I witnessed is not significantly altered. I must warn you, however, that we may not meet in the manner which you might expect. "

"As long as we do," he said, reassured.

Saavik felt bitterness, well up within her. She couldn't help but release it. "With all that will be lost, is that important?"

His eyes met with hers; she had never looked into them so deeply before. Nor had she ever quite realized what a complex creature a human being could be. Their faces—their eyes especially—reflected their feelings even when their words did not. "It's very important to me," he said.

Saavik felt immediately ashamed. By allowing her own bitterness and unhappiness to surface, she had hurt his feelings. He was attempting to express a positive emotion, and she had answered with self-pity. It was a highly improper response even where emotion was concerned. "That was not an appropriate remark for me to make. Please forgive me. I am being selfish."

Strangely enough, Terry disregarded the apology rather than accepting it. Was this proper? Never mind. He leaned forward, maintaining their eye contact. "There's something you're not telling me."

Interesting. She had insulted him, and he had responded with concern. "Yes," she admitted, "there is."

He smiled, reached forward and took one of her hands gently. Yes, his skin was much cooler than a Vulcan's. "Well, I've gotten you this far, and it appears we're going to be partners in crime. Why don't you tell me everything?"

"It is not something I find easy to discuss."

He squeezed her hand. "That's a very good reason to do so anyway."

Despite the illogic of his statement, Saavik decided suddenly that she wanted to tell him the rest of what she knew. To talk about it seemed as if it might make it easier to withstand. "You are aware that Admiral Kirk has a son?"

"I've… heard, yes," he replied, perhaps a bit mystified by this new turn in the conversation. He would understand soon.

"His name is David Marcus. He is one of the designers of the Genesis project of which you have heard so much recently. He is… a friend of mine."

"I see."

"I have not often had friends," she explained, knowing that, as a human, he had probably had many. She hoped he would understand the importance of friends to her. "I am not sufficiently knowledgeable in the ways of emotion yet—"

Terry laughed. "You make it sound like a science."

"Do I? I take it that is an incorrect approach." It occured to her that he had been laughing at her ignorance of emotional relations. A flash of anger went through her. She did not like to be laughed at.

But his response was as soft as ever. She saw that he was not losing patience with her at all, nor was he laughing. Her anger faded, but she still didn't understand why he had laughed. Humans, of course, did so often without provocation.

"I'm not sure there is an incorrect approach," he said, shrugging. "But it's not something you study for." He brought his other hand up to stroke the wrist of the one he already held. "Anyone can have friends."

"I see. I am… gratified to know that. I have found them to be beneficial. You see, Spock could not teach me competently how to make friends—and deal with humans, in particular. Perhaps he lacked experience. Others have helped me, however, in recent months," she halted only a moment as she thought of Peter Preston, the first friend she had ever made. He too, was dead now, and buried in the soil of a planet hundreds of parsecs away. "In recent months I have learned a great deal about friendship. It is a valuable thing."

Terry smiled. "Very."

"It is not," she continued quietly, "an easy thing to lose."

His smile faded as he put together all the things she had said and drew a conclusion. ''My God, Saavik. Is David—"

"He will not survive," she said stiffly.

He released her hand and sat back hard, not knowing what to say. "I'm… I'm sorry, Saavik."

It wasn't easy to fight the emotions that tried to bring themselves to the surface now. The tears that had taken possession of her at Regula were on the verge of returning, but she couldn't afford to give in to emotion this close to the upcoming mission. Nor did she wish to lose control in front of Terry. Shame was only part of it. If she went too far, or he behaved unpredictab1y—as humans often did—she might injure him. "I am also," she said in a dead tone. "David has… " she couldn't find the words. "He means… "

"You love him."

"Yes," she said slowly. "I believe I do."

Terry shook his head. "And yet you're going through with this?"

"I must, there is no other way." She didn't know if she had said that for his benefit or her own.

"But why do you have to do it? Who chose you?" His tone displayed anger—not directed at her—but anger. Who, she wondered, was it directed at? Perhaps even Terry didn't know. That was an interesting concept—that a human could be angry without even knowing who or what his anger was directed at.

"I do not know," she said simply.

Terry accepted that and considered it. "If you need any help," he said gently. "I mean, if there's anything I can do… "

"There is," she told him. "You have already done part of it. If you will continue to assist me—"

"I will," he said immediately.

"And," she went on tentatively, "if you will be my friend?"

He smiled warmly, and his hand again reached for hers. "I would be honored, Saavik."

"Thank you. I… I believe I will need a friend." She squeezed back at his cool hand, drawing what comfort she could from the feeling. After a moment's silence, she asked, "And you?"

"Me?" he asked. "What about me?"

"It is very likely that you will not meet Commander Teller in the other universe. You will not be assigned to the _Enterprise._ "

He nodded. "I figured as much."

"Does that trouble you?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?" she asked, unsure whether she had any right to or not. It was an extremely personal question. Ordinarily, she would not have presumed to ask it of another. Logic, however, seemed to suggest that, since Terry had asked it of her, she was entitled to return the favor.

"I'm… " He shook his head, troubled by the question. "I'm not sure. I might. I guess I'll never know."

"And the thought of not knowing me troubles you as much as the thought of not knowing her?"

Her questions seemed to cause him considerable discomfort. She hadn't forgotten the first time she had discovered that humans were also uncomfortable with their emotions—it had been during a conversation with Admiral Kirk. Now, Terry seemed to be displaying the same symptoms of embarrassment. "I'm not sure how the two of you compare," he said uneasily. "I… I like both of you. I don't know if it's right to… "

When he didn't continue, Saavik prompted him. "To what?"

He removed his hand from hers and held them both together in front of him, tapping them against his belt buckle. "Is love a thing that can be shared with more than one person?" he asked finally.

Saavik raised her eyebrow in dismay. To be asked a question about love—by Terry Metcalfe, of all people—was not something she had expected. "I'm afraid I know little of love," she said apologetically. "I have felt it, but I do not understand it. Many of your human authors," she explained, hoping that literature was an adequate source of information for such a discussion, "seemed to believe that it should be restricted to a single individual—others, however, disagreed."

Terry was regarding her now with an expression that was somewhere between delight and dismay. "You really have _studied_ the subject, haven't you?"

He carefully emphasized the word "studied." Saavik referred again to their first meeting and their discussion of the ceremony of mating. "That was your recommendation."

Terry nodded his agreement. He had, after all, told her that it was essential to study the field and its related areas. He smiled—a rather embarrassed smile, if Saavik was as adept at reading human expressions as she thought she was. "I'm afraid I wasn't referring to books," he explained somewhat awkwardly. "I was making a bit of a joke."

"I see," Saavik said slowly, considering the "joke" and trying to pick out the inherent humor. "I have trouble with jokes."

"How many books did you read?" Terry now asked, as if troubled by the subject.

"I believe I scanned some 217 novels and quite an amount of poetry as well—all on the subject of 'love.'" Terry appeared almost to be in pain. Saavik explained further, hoping to ease his discomfort. "I used the library computer to scan for that specific heading. On the subject of affections shared among various numbers, your Earth's 'science fiction' authors· made quite a few statements. The essays of H.G. Wells, for instance, and the fiction of Robert Heinlein—"

"How did a study of love cause the computer to select Heinlein?"

"An inappropriate choice?" she asked, thinking, perhaps, that she had been studying an individual whose views were not well thought of on Earth—although she had been fascinated by them.

"Oh no. I'd have directed you to him immediately, but the computer—"

"The computer," she explained, "gave me a title including the word 'love.'"

"Yes," he said. "Of course. I remember the book now. Did you find it useful?"

"I found it… fascinating, to say the least. Its description of travels in time and the complications involved—"

"Speaking of relevant information," Terry observed with a grin.

"Indeed. I found quite a bit of fiction involving both the subjects of time travel and love."

"Fiction fast becoming reality. Did you happen to read _The Number of the Beast?_ "

Saavik allowed herself to grimace. "I did not. An odd title for a work involving love, is it not? The computer did not recommend it."

Terry sighed. "Machines," he said, shaking his head.

"Are always subject to the limitations of their programmers," she pointed out.

"What exactly did the work involve?"

"It described travels in time and through alternate universes. It even speculated on an upper limit to the number of possible existing universes."

Saavik was immediately curious. "And that was?"

"The number of the beast," he explained. "Six raised to the sixth power, the quantity raised to the sixth."

"I see. And how was this limit calculated?"

"I don't remember. Saavik, the story was only fiction."

"Fiction fast becoming reality," she reminded him.

He smiled. "True. It's easy to forget that we're about to go on a trip through time—into other universes."

"Universes which are constantly subdividing and forming new ones," she agreed.

"It would be interesting to calculate that limit you mentioned."

He laughed. "We only have a month's leave, you know."

"On the contrary," she said seriously. "As of now, we quite literally have all the time in the world."


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Kirk's investigation continues. McCoy finds himself in the miserable position of having to betray his closest friend.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Still angry and dismayed over the mutinous behavior of his two officers and the on-going mystery of the ship's malfunctioning computer, Jim Kirk came out of the turbo lift, pushing at the edge of the door with his left hand in an impatient gesture.

He approached Uhura's station. "Have you raised the _Excelsior_ , Commander?"

"No sir," Uhura said apologetically, "I'm afraid I haven't."

That wasn't the answer he had expected. "What?"

"I've tried, but there's no response." She shook her head, aggravated. "I don't understand it."

Kirk chewed thoughtfully on his lip. Could the _Excelsior_ have been attacked or damaged? Unlikely. Sulu was an experienced combat officer, and his ship was the state of the art in Fleet technology. She could practically fight her battles without a crew.

"Is the system working?" he asked.

"I've checked and double-checked it, sir," Uhura said with a shrug. "There's nothing wrong with it that can be seen without taking the whole board apart." She looked at him for a long moment. "You don't suppose something's happened to them, do you?"

There was evident concern in her eyes. "Let's concentrate on finding the problem on our end," he said gently. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

She smiled. "Aye, sir."

"Ah, Uhura," he said hesitantly as she turned back to her board. "Can you contact Starfleet?"

"Aye, sir."

He nodded. "Let them know we've lost contact with _Excelsior_ —just in case." Of course, even if something was wrong, that was a fairly useless gesture. Starfleet wouldn't receive their subspace message for another day. "And give the system a thorough check.

"If you have to take the whole thing apart… " he sighed. "Do it. I'll be in sickbay.

You have the con."

Jim cursed silently to himself as he entered the turbo lift. The _Excelsior_ —failure to respond meant not only the inconvenience of tearing the ship's comm system, and thus crippling communications for most of a day, it also meant that Kirk would not be able to get information from Hikaru—he would have to try McCoy. Only Bones had any idea what was going on in Saavik's head right now, but he had politely refused to discuss any of the details of their visit to the Guardian on the grounds of Doctor-Patient confidentiality.

As he entered sickbay, he found it nearly empty. It was a slow day for illness, apparently. Chris Chapel tended to one unfortunate tech from engineering who was holding his arm out for her to run a scanner over. He was young, one of the new ones. Jim guessed he had taken a fall from one of the catwalks in the engine room. At least one did every year.

Chris smiled at him as he went past. He mustered his best attempt at a cheerful greeting but knew it came off sounding distant. "If you're looking for Leonard," she said helpfully, "he's in his office studying some journals." She grinned, trying, he could tell, to cheer him up. "I wish the whole trip could be like the first week," she added as she put down her scanner and led her patient out of the room to set his arm.

Kirk chuckled and went on through to McCoy's office. Bones was indeed bent over his viewer studying a Fleet journal. He'd probably complain about the interruption anyway. It wasn't often that he got to catch up on such mundane matters.

He snapped the viewer off. "What's up, Jim?" Strange, no complaints. He was even smiling.

"Plenty. Mutiny, forgery, a few other assorted violations of Fleet regs—"

McCoy came around the desk. "What? Jim what the devil are you talking about?"

"Saavik," he replied quietly. He saw McCoy flinch just a little. "Bones, what _did_ happen on the Time Planet?"

McCoy shook his head slightly. "I told you, Jim. We—"

"Bones!" he said loudly, allowing his irritation to filter out through his voice. He softened and began again. "Bones, it's important. Saavik's taken an emergency leave and—"

"I know, I advised that."

"Did you also advise her to take it on the Time Planet?"

McCoy's jaw dropped. "What?"

"That's where she would appear to be headed. Now, tell me everything that happened when you were there with her."

"We—we just watched her past—her meeting with Spock on Hellguard, her time at the academy, and… Spock's death. She wanted to see how it happened. I guess she felt guilty that she wasn't at his side when it happened. Vulcans are peculiar about that, for some reason."

"Sorry, Bones. I don't buy it."

McCoy bristled. "Well, then, tell me your diagnosis, _Doctor_ Kirk."

"Bones, why would she wait so long to react to Spock's death? When we were mind-linked—"

"Maybe that has something to do with it," McCoy said.

"What?"

"The mind meld. When she entered your mind, maybe she found some consolation after losing Spock. Maybe joining with you helped her control her grief—the way Vulcans join with their families after a bond mate is lost."

"Do you believe that?" Jim asked skeptically.

"I think it's feasible."

"Then you've been played for a fool, Bones. ' Saavik didn't take a personal leave; she had herself transferred to _Excelsior_. She gave Sulu forged orders to take her to the Time Planet—orders allegedly cleared by me."

"Saavik?" McCoy asked, disbelieving. "Jim, she's a Vulcan. She wouldn't—"

"Oh, she didn't do it alone. Lt. Metcalfe helped."

"Terry? Jim, there has to be an explanation. Kids like that don't just-"

"Well, they did, Doctor," Kirk cut him off sharply. "No one—least of all a Vulcan—goes off to a restricted planet for a memorial. How did she even find out about the Time Planet?"

"Maybe Spock told her."

"Why?" Jim demanded. "Why would Spock tell her about the most secretive planet in Federation space?"

"How the hell should I know?" McCoy responded, angrily. "I never understood that pointed-eared hobgoblin!"

Jim was taken aback. Even Bones had not spoken so of Spock since he had died. It was damn cruel to talk that way about a friend who was dead. He decided not to notice it. There was no point in getting angry at him. "She's up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"You gonna follow them?"

"I don't have much choice. I'll have to go through Harry Morrow again and get permission, but I will find out!"

Kirk strode out of the office without looking back. He didn't see the look of worry that came over McCoy's face.

* * *

McCoy had quickly excused himself from sickbay, asking Christine to take over for a few minutes. She had no objections, of course, and wouldn't have had there been any patients today. Now he was in his quarters waiting for the channel he had requested to be opened.

Fortunately, M'saar, Uhura's young Caitian second, had been on duty. McCoy didn't particularly want to explain to the ship's first officer why he was placing a secret call to Starfleet Command. The girl had received an order from a respected senior officer and quickly obeyed, no questions asked. With any luck, she would forget the entire incident.

The small screen at his desk flared suddenly to life, and, after a moment of static, Starfleet Commander Morrow appeared. He smiled one of his smiles generally reserved for visiting dignitaries. "Hello, Doctor. To what do I owe the honor of your call?"

"I—I guess it's a sort of warning, sir."

"Warning?" Morrow became suddenly interested.

"Yes, Admiral." How, exactly, did he explain this? "Ah, you'll be receiving another call soon. Jim—Admiral Kirk—wants permission to return to the Time Planet—"

"Doctor," Morrow said with growing suspicion. "If this is a call from the ship's surgeon, trying to make a sympathy plea for the captain—"

"No, sir," McCoy assured him.

"The Time Planet is a very sensitive world. I can't just have officers flitting in and out at their every whim—not even Jim Kirk."

"I realize that, sir," McCoy said. "And that's exactly why I'm calling. You see, it's my recommendation that you do not let Admiral Kirk take this ship back under any circumstances."

Morrow sat back and considered that for a moment. He obviously couldn't believe that McCoy would be actually opposing Jim Kirk on something—especially to Starfleet Command. McCoy wasn't sure he believed it himself. "I don't think I understand, Doctor. I thought Jim requested permission the first time on _your_ recommendation—for Lt. Saavik's benefit."

"Not quite, sir," McCoy lied. "You see, it was my recommendation, but it wasn't for Saavik's sake. Oh, that's what Jim says, and we don't deny it, but I really thought we should go there for _his_ benefit. Spock's death was hard on him—"

Morrow nodded fervently·. "And you thought that the trip would help matters?"

"Yes, sir, I did. But I'm afraid I was wrong. Our first visit only compounded the problem. Jim's becoming obsessed now with the Guardian."

Sudden horror came to Morrow's face as he realized the implications of what McCoy was telling him. "Doctor, do you think he might actually use the Guardian to try and change what happened?"

 _Oh, hell! Here's hoping you're a damn good liar, Leonard. You might never forgive yourself for what you're saying; and Jim won't either, if he finds out._ "I—I'd like to think not. Jim Kirk's never been that kind of man; but it _is_ Spock. Jim's behavior has been deteriorating, and I'm worried about him. I don't know if I'd put anything past him in the state he's in."

Morrow nodded again, understanding. "I'll get in touch with the Chief Psychiatrist's office and make the preparations, then."

McCoy went cold all over. He could feel the blood draining from his face as he asked, "Sir?"

"Well, from what you've told me, he'll certainly be requiring observation, won't he?" Morrow said.

"Actually, Admiral," McCoy said, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice, "I'd, uh, like to keep him here for a while. I am something of an expert in psychology—"

"I realize that, Doctor, but—"

"And I do know Jim better than any doctor at headquarters," he pointed out urgently. He had to talk his way out of this one!

Morrow sighed. "All right, Dr. McCoy; but if the condition worsens, contact me immediately and I'll make the preparations."

"I'll… do that, sir," McCoy said quietly, reaching for the control to the viewer.

"Before you go, Doctor," Morrow said, bringing l:fcCoy's attention back to him, "what reason is Jim planning to give for going to the Time Planet? Isn't Lt. Saavik on leave?"

"Yes, sir, she is. Jim authorized her to take a month off duty. He even authorized an officer to go with her and keep an eye on her." McCoy stopped to build up his courage for yet another lie. His conscience nagged him. _Traitor!_ _Do you know what you're doing?_ "But now-"

"Now?"

"Uh," McCoy stammered. "He denies giving the orders. He insists that they were forged, and that Lt. Saavik is trying to return to the Time Planet herself."

"Do you suppose," the Admiral wondered out loud, "that he gave those orders merely so he would have an excuse to return to the Time Planet?"

That was going too far. He had already accused Kirk of being mentally unstable, of displaying obsessive behavior, but of out and out conspiracy? No, he couldn't bring himself to say that. "Uh, sir, I… "

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Morrow said, sensing his discomfort. "I realize that it can't be easy for you to do this."

"No, sir," McCoy said meaningfully. "It's not."

"All right, I won't grill you anymore. Just keep an eye on him for me and I'll handle the rest."

Morrow's face flashed off the screen. McCoy stood, walked to his shelf, and poured himself a large glass of Kentucky bourbon.

* * *

Jim Kirk had gone to his quarters for lack of anywhere better to go. Uhura was systematically dissecting the communications equipment, and Chekov was minding the bridge. Kirk himself was not feeling particularly useful right now. None of his officers, after all, seemed to be very much under his control. He felt as if there was something going on that everyone knew about but him.

_You're paranoid, Jim._

His intercom signal went off, and he pulled himself out of the lounge chair to answer it. "Kirk here."

Uhura appeared, dressed in grey work fatigues and looking particularly haggard. Her hair was tied back behind her head with a cloth, and for once she wore no earrings, but she displayed an air of triumph as she held a tiny, silver cylinder up for him to see, "I found our problem, sir."

"A jamming device?"

She nodded. "I had to tear out half the comm system, but I found it. It was planted on the transmission unit."

"How did we manage to contact Starfleet?" Kirk asked. "Shouldn't it have prevented all communications?"

"No, sir," she explained, "it's keyed specifically to the _Excelsior's_ call-code. Any other transmissions go right through, but this thing swallows all signals intended for _Excelsior_."

Kirk grimaced appreciatively. "That's a nice trick. Any idea who put it there?"

Uhura shook her head. "One thing's for sure, Terry and Saavik neither one has the skill to build something like this. Someone else built it for them, obviously, so that you couldn't get through to Sulu and slow their progress to the Time Planet."

"Let's hope we beat them. How soon can you put me through to Sulu?"

Her expression was not encouraging. "I don't know, Admiral. It'll take my staff half the day to put the system back together."

 _Damn!_ "All right, get them to it. And then assemble the senior officers in the main briefing room. I'll be there shortly."

"They'll be there, sir," Uhura said tiredly and broke the channel. Jim left the intercom and began to pace the room, gathering his thoughts before he faced his officers. He couldn't keep what Uhura had told him from his mind: "Terry and Saavik neither one have the skill… " They hadn't done it alone.

Somewhere aboard ship, one more officer or crewman had joined in the conspiracy.

Who? And Why? Obviously, it had to be someone with technical skill in communications and subspace broadcasting equipment. Uhura, of course, had the capability, as did her staff, Scotty… perhaps Chekov and… Angela Teller, the ship's science officer.

Kirk wasn't familiar with the backgrounds of the communications staff—there were a handful of them capable of pulling this stunt off—but neither did he think Terry or Saavik had any contacts among them. Scotty, he just couldn't picture being talked into it, nor Uhura. Chekov? He'd liked to have thought not; but Angela… Angela was quite fond of Terry. That was well known among the crew. The young helmsman and the older science officer had been quite an item before the ship's last stopover.

Of course, Angela Teller had been on the ship for many years—longer than Pavel Chekov. Kirk didn't like to think of her as being an accessory to mutiny anymore than he liked to think of any of the rest of his crew being so; but someone _was_ an accessory. Kirk intended to find out who.

* * *

They were all assembled when he arrived—Uhura and Chekov flanking his seat at the head of the table, McCoy, Scotty, Chapel, and Teller. All looked bewilderedly at him as he entered the room, waiting to be given a reason for the sudden staff meeting.

As pleasantly as he could, considering the anger building itself up in his system, Kirk smiled at all of them and took his seat. "Thank you for reporting so promptly. I know you all have questions—and believe me, once this meeting is over, you'll have even more—so let me get right to the point. At the beginning of this mission, immediately preceding our departure from Earth, both Lt. Saavik and Lt. Metcalfe requested that I grant them personal leaves. The requests, although both suitably mysterious, were made separately, and I saw no cause to make a connection between them.

"I granted each of them thirty days leave, no questions asked. I thought little more of the matter until Commander Uhura noticed in the ship's log banks that neither Saavik nor Metcalfe had filed leave itineraries. Instead, she found two sets of orders—allegedly issued by me—instructing Captain Sulu to allow them to board _Excelsior_ and to give them one-way passage to the Time Planet on the assurance that we would be arriving there at a later date."

He stopped and surveyed the faces around him, looking for any traces of feelings that might resemble guilt. Uhura was neutral—she already knew this—Chekov, Scotty and Chapel looked shocked, and Angela Teller was giving every indication of being on the verge of tears.

"They forged the orders?" asked Christine, disbelieving.

She was genuinely shocked. She wasn't a suspect anyway, because she lacked the technical skill; but her reaction to the news removed any doubts that Kirk might have had about Christine having any information. Saavik, despite their almost mother-daughter relationship, had told her nothing of her plans. "They were forged," he confirmed with a nod. "And whoever did it did a beautiful job."

Uhura nodded. "Terry would have done a beautiful job."

"That's exactly why I called this meeting, Uhura," Kirk said. "I want all of your thoughts, observations, or speculations in this matter. I must admit that I'm at a loss to understand why two of our best officers took off with forged orders for a planet strictly forbidden to them. Did any of you notice anything odd about their behavior or overhear either of them say anything which might supply a rationale?"

Angela's head dropped, and she appeared to be squirming a bit. _Guilt_? "Ms. Teller?" he asked. "Did you have something to _say_?"

The woman looked up and faced him. There was no guilt in her eyes, but pain. _Pain?_ "Terry—Lt. Metcalfe—spoke to me before he left; but only for a few minutes. He told me… " she stopped, blushing. "He told me that he'd been ordered to act as a pilot for some secret mission, said they wanted an experienced pilot. He said they'd be back in a few weeks and everything would be fine." She hung her head again, too embarrassed at having been the victim of a lie to face the rest of them.

"Not a bed story," Chekov observed with a humorless grin.

"No," Kirk admitted. To Angela he said, "you had no way of knowing it wasn't true, Commander. "

Angela nodded vaguely, but did not look up. _No_ , Kirk thought, _she can't be the one._ The whole hoax now seemed doubly cruel. Terry and Saavik had betrayed not only their commanding officer, but also the people they were closest to. Terry had come right out and lied. _Why?_

"Anyone else have anything to add? Think, please. Anything you talked about with one of them or noticed about them might be important."

Christine Chapel said, as if betraying a deep confidence, "I did give Saavik another psych exam after our first visit to the Time Planet."

"And?" Kirk asked. She seemed hesitant to say what she had found. Was Saavik unstable? Insane? Had Bones been right about her heightened reaction to Spock's death?

After an uncomfortable moment, she said quietly, "Nothing. She was perfectly healthy. Whatever caused her to do this, it had nothing to do with insanity."

With just a touch of sarcasm, Kirk said, "Dr. McCoy didn't seem to agree with you earlier, Dr. Chapel."

McCoy looked at him sharply, anger sparkling faintly in his eyes. "I wasn't aware of the results of the exam, Admiral. I was merely speculating earlier about the cause of Saavik's actions."

Mildly ashamed of himself, Kirk said apologetically, "Of course, Doctor. I didn't mean to imply otherwise." Bones, after all, was the last one who would be involved in this scheme. He had no reason to be angry at him, and no excuse to let his anger and dismay over Terry and Saavik be taken out on others.

"All right," he went on. "We know more, but we don't know enough. If Saavik was in her right mind, and we'll assume Metcalfe was as well, what made them take off this way? What do they hope to accomplish on the Time Planet in a second visit that they couldn't accomplish before? And who," he stopped, looking again at all around him as he asked, "who on board the _Enterprise_ helped them?"

An immediate chorus of gasps and shocked questions sprang up. Kirk waited a moment for the others to be silent, and then gestured to Uhura. "Commander, would you explain?"

Uhura, who had been slumping a bit in her chair, sat up and pulled out the tiny jamming device. "I found this," she explained, "in our transmissions unit. It's a jamming device keyed specifically to block out all communications with the _Excelsior_."

"Sabotage," Kirk said. "A deliberate attempt to keep us from stopping Saavik and Metcalfe from reaching their destination. And it looks as if it'll work. The comm system won't be ready to go again for another several hours." Having made his point, he turned again to Uhura. "Commander, didn't you tell me, in effect, that Metcalfe and Saavik couldn't have planted that device themselves?"

"Yes, sir," she affirmed hesitantly.

"And who, in your opinion, would be capable of building and installing such a device?"

She fidgeted in her seat. "Some of my staff, myself… " she stopped to look at the others. "And… Mr. Scott, Pavel and Angela." She almost whispered the last name. Apparently, she had seen already that the evidence was stacked against the science officer.

On Pavel Chekov's face, the shock was growing rapidly. "Then, someone on the _Enterprise_ —"

"Is responsible for sabotaging the comm system," Kirk finished for him. "And it would seem to be one of the people that Commander Uhura just mentioned." He faced them, his jaw set firm. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to know who that one is."

"Edmiral," Chekov asked, "Eesn't it posseble thet it was someone else? Among the entire crew, there must be a few who just heppen to know how to work with the comm seestem."

Kirk knew it was possible. His crew included representatives from many different worlds. It was possible that some of them—apart from those mentioned—were familiar with the components. Perhaps a few were even native to the world on which the components were assembled. "Yes, Mr. Chekov, it's possible, but I'd like to keep our number of suspects small for just a moment. If Saavik and Metcalfe were to get one of the crew to help them with this—whatever you call their little scheme—who would they be most likely to get?"

Chris Chapel nodded knowingly. "Someone they knew—someone they trusted."

"Yes," Kirk agreed. "Mr. Scott, Ms. Uhura, Mr. Chekov, and Ms. Teller are the most likely suspects, therefore," he noticed that each of their faces tightened, "because they are the ones who both possess the ability and are close enough to Metcalfe and Saavik to assist them."

"To commit mutiny for them," Bones corrected in a dry voice.

"Yes," Kirk admitted quietly. "I'm sorry to have to say this, but you all must realize that you are the most likely suspects."

There were brief nods all about the room. and Angela's eyes brimmed with tears.

Noticing her, McCoy asked somewhat viciously, "Do you intend to hold a trial here, Jim?"

"No, Bones," he said apologetically. "I only held this meeting for input—to see what thoughts the rest of you might have, and let you know that someone aboard is—"

"A traitor?" Scotty asked in an odd tone. It must have really hurt him to think that one of his fellow officers could do such a thing as this. Of course, it could even be him who had done it... _No use thinking about it_ , Kirk told himself. _We'll know soon enough._

"If you like, Mr. Scott," Kirk said. "At any rate, we'll be setting out to follow our prodigal officers, and I'm sure when we find them, we'll find answers. This briefing is over. If any of you would like to speak. to me privately," he added, in the vain hope of inspiring confession, "I'll be in my quarters all evening." He left them with that and went to call Harry Morrow. He wondered how he'd react when Kirk asked him for permission to go to the Time Planet again.

* * *

The senior officers were evacuating the briefing room with all possible speed, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the ugliness of the meeting. Uhura had felt sick at first—sick at the thought that Terry and Saavik, the eager young officers whose cadet cruises she'd overseen, whose graduations she'd attended, could possibly be committing mutiny.

Now she felt nothing. After hours of wondering what could possibly make them do this, she had gone numb. And now to discover that someone had helped them, probably one of the officers in that very room not five minutes ago… Was this what it was like to be the ship's first officer? To forget how to feel? Was that what had made Spock so uniquely qualified? Indeed, she didn't feel very human right now.

She knew that she needed to relax, and she saw Pavel and Scotty walking just a bit ahead of her, speaking quietly. She ran to catch them. "Rough briefing," she observed.

Chekov merely nodded and grimaced. Scotty, however, looked… what? Uncomfortable?

Of course, they all felt a little funny right now. He sighed heavily and said, "Aye."

"I think I could use a drink," she said. "Would the two of you care to join me?"

" _Thet's_ a good idea," Pavel responded with enthusiasm.

"Scotty?"

"Uh, the engines need—"

"Come on, Scotty," she said, taking his arm firmly, "it'll be good for you to relax."

He seemed singularly unwilling to come along. He tried to manage a joke. "I can relax wi' me engines, lassie," he said, but it fell flat. His usual humor was gone.

Was there something more than simple shock over the briefing, was something else troubling him? Did he… could he know something that she didn't?

Uhura said, "Just for a few minutes?" and he consented silently. They finished the walk to her quarters quietly. Scotty, especially, didn't lighten up; he even refused to sit when they went inside, preferring to stand and gaze at the wall as she poured a brandy, a vodka, and a scotch.

As she handed the drinks out, she noticed that Scotty didn't even indulge in his customary jab at Pavel's alcoholic preferences. That was not an opportunity he often passed up, and it usually annoyed her. Now she missed it.

Trying to make conversation, she said, "Poor Jim. This is breaking his heart. I can't believe it's happening."

"No," agreed Pavel, "neither do I. They never seemed the type to me."

"What type is thot, lad?" Scotty asked with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Chekov shrugged. "I just meant… I don't know vhat I meant. It's just a shock, that's all."

"Aye," agreed Scotty, "i's thot all right."

Uhura couldn't help wondering about Scotty's graveness. Even Pavel wasn't taking it this hard. And she couldn't help that feeling that Scotty knew something, either. Surely he wasn't… he _wouldn't_ be the one… not Scotty! No, she was ashamed of herself for thinking such a thing. "

"Tell me, Scotty, who do you think planted the jammer?"

He looked up from his glass for a moment, his face a picture of anger and resentment.

The picture quickly faded, and his face was blank. But what the hell… ?

"I wouldna know, Lass."

"Don't you have a guess?"

Scotty set the glass down on her desk, and it made a hard, knocking sound. She thought it might break. "Do ye get some pleasure outta th'idea thot one o' us might be a traitor?"

His accusing tone stunned her. "No, Scotty, but it's part of my job to know what's going on among the crew—especially if it's something that might endanger the ship."

"Did ye ever consider thot it might not be endangerin' th'ship?" he demanded. "Maybe there's a reason for—"

"Do you know of one?" she asked immediately.

He suddenly looked drained, his expression one of sadness and pain. "No, I don't. I was merely suggestin' thot maybe the bairns have a reason f'r what they're doin'. They're vera good officers."

"Do you approve?"

"Nay, Uhura, I dinna approve. I'm jus' tryin' t'keep an open mind."

"Scotty, we're talking about a crime. I know we don't want to believe it, but—"

"Nay," he interrupted, "I dinna want to believe it. In fact," he said, picking up his drink from the desk and handing it to her, "I'd rather not even discuss it. I have me engines to attend to."

As he left, Uhura stood, shocked, holding his drink with her mouth hanging open absurdly. What had made him act this way? Scotty had his moods, but he was rarely so temperamental with her.

After a moment, she became aware of Pavel watching her, studying her. She turned to him. "Did you have to be so hard on him?" he asked. "He doesn't like this situation either."

Oh, no. Was Pavel about to turn on her too? "I'm just trying to find out what I can."

"Et any cost?"

"What?" she asked, wondering what this was leading up to.

"You could see this was upsetting him," Pavel said accusingly. "Did you hev to keep pushing?"

"You heard Jim," Uhura said, and she realized that she did so somewhat defensively.

"We're all suspects. It's my job—"

"Yeah," he observed bitterly. "It's your job. I'm not sure I like your job or what it's doing to you. You"ve changed."

Changed? Well, maybe she had. "I've never been a first officer before."

"And you hev never treated your friends that way before, either!"

"And you could handle this better?" Uhura demanded in anger.

Pavel shook his head, his voice was gentle now. "I don't know. Just… do yourself a favor—slow down. We're still friends, no metter what our ranks. You can be an officer and still be a human being."

With irony, Uhura realized that the tables were now turned. Weeks ago, she had forced Pavel to pick himself up out of his depression and do his job. Now, he was returning the favor. Where he had given in to his guilt to the point that he had failed to relate to the outside world, she had now become so dedicated that she was alienating her friends… the greatest danger of power, of command.

She nodded, his gentility had calmed her. She knew he wouldn't say these things merely to antagonize her. She herself had noticed her reduced capacity to feel. Yes, perhaps she was driving herself—and everybody else—too hard. Perhaps she had asked too many questions.

And yet she couldn't keep Scotty's strange behavior out of her mind.

* * *

"Hello, Christine. I am sorry to have to communicate with you in this way, but I assure you that it is necessary." Saavik's image on the screen sat straight in her chair as she spoke. "Terry and I have a task to perform. I cannot explain its nature to you, for to do so would endanger its success. You probably know already, however, that both of us have not taken leave on Earth, but have set out for the Time Planet."

Christine hadn't known where the tape had come from. When they had returned from the briefing, there it had been on her desk. She knew it hadn't been there before, and had inserted it in the viewer out of curiosity. When Saavik's image had first appeared, she had been shocked, as she had been when the computer had informed her that the tape was privacy-locked to her voice print alone. Vulcans didn't use privacy locks—usually.

As the tape played on, she prayed that Saavik would explain something of this mission to her, give her some reason why she had left so abruptly. Without knowing it, she had developed a deep attachment to the young woman; and Saavik's sudden disappearance had hurt her. What could possibly have been wrong that Saavik would not have felt free to speak of?

"I will not lie to you, there is no point in doing so," the image went on. "The orders we are carrying have been forged. Captain Sulu will, we hope, accept them without question and take us to our destination. We have taken every precaution, as you will discover, to see to it that Captain Sulu and Admiral Kirk cannot contact each other until we are already at the Guardian of Forever." She stopped, looking down for a moment, as if speaking directly into the tape was painful.

"I realize that we have committed several serious crimes in the process of carrying out our mission. I realize, also, that I have committed a breach of Human etiquette by not informing you of my departure beforehand. I suppose I… hurt your feelings. For both of these I apologize. If I ever have the opportunity, I will explain to you—and everyone else. But, in the meantime, I must ask one thing of you: Do not tell Admiral Kirk—or Commander Uhura—that you have seen this tape. For the safety of my mission, and the safety of himself, the Admiral must never know what Terry and I have done or why we have done it."

Saavik looked straight at her now. Christine felt as if she were listening to the actual woman and not her taped image. "Please, Christine, do this for me. Please… trust me, if that is not impossible. I realize that you must be mystified and hurt by my behavior, but… try to understand that I would explain if it were possible. I am… grateful for your friendship. I have heard it said that friendship is the only possession of any true value. I believe," she said, looking away from the monitor again, her face turning just a little darker, "I believe that it is true. Of the few possessions I have, your friendship is one of my most valued. If," she said slowly, "if we… do not see each other again… I will always remember you, my friend."

As the tape went dark, Christine did not move. What had Saavik meant, "if we do not see each other again?" Was this mission that dangerous that she did not expect to come back from it? It didn't sound that way, but then, Saavik was a Vulcan. Why wouldn't they see each other again?

When Spock had died, Christine had not been sure how she felt. It had happened so suddenly, there hadn't been time for anything but shock, and then grief, grief for a lost friend whom she had once believed she had loved.

When Roger Corby, her fiancé, had died, she had been so drained of emotion that she had been unable to feel anything. For years, she had believed him dead anyway. Once she had found him still alive and then witnessed his death inside the body of a machine, there had been no grief left within her.

But now, there was time; and now, she had room for grief. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Chris Chapel was afraid. In fact, she was terrified—terrified that she might lose someone else she cared for, someone else she loved. This time, she could feel.

And this time, she didn't know if she could take it.

* * *

Harry Morrow shook his head. "Jim, it seems to me that enough trips have been made to the Time Planet."

Kirk was surprised by his tone. He sounded as if this were a trivial request being made by a five-year-old. It almost seemed that he hadn't heard—or hadn't believed—a word Kirk had told him. "Harry, two of my officers have abandoned my ship and run off on some sort of errand to the Time Planet. They're carrying forged orders, they sabotaged my comm system—"

But Morrow only shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Jim. I understand that things aren't easy for you, but you've got to adjust. You've got to face reality. You can't live in the past."

What the hell was he talking about? _Living in the past_? _Adjust to what_? "I don't know what you're talking about!" Kirk insisted.

Morrow looked as if he didn't know whether to be sad or angry. He settled for a little bit of both. "Jim, please don't make this any harder. Try to forget; it's for the best."

Confused and angry, Kirk demanded, "Goddammit, Harry! What the hell are you talking about?"

Sternly, the Admiral said, "There will be no further discussion of this, Admiral Kirk! Starfleet out." The channel broke. The screen died.

For several moments, Kirk continued to stare at it in dismay. He wasn't sure exactly what he had just heard. It had sounded as if he and Morrow were having two separate conversations. Most upsetting, perhaps, was the way Morrow just seemed to ignore what he had told him about Saavik and Metcalfe. He couldn't shake the feeling that the commanding Admiral simply didn't believe him but hadn't the heart to call him a liar.

Why wouldn't Harry believe him? What was going through his head? Kirk had given him no reason to—No! He suddenly realized what must be going on. He. might not have given Morrow any reason to suspect his behavior, but someone else might have. He now understood the meaning of all those remarks about adjusting and living in the past.

Someone had fed Morrow a story about Kirk's own inability to deal with Spock's death. Morrow obviously believed that Kirk would sooner or later use the Guardian to change what had happened. But who could have handed out such a story? Morrow wouldn't have listened to Saavik or Metcalfe, but the other suspects in this case—Uhura, Chekov, Scotty, Teller—all were senior officers. Morrow might listen to anyone of them if they told him that their commander was going over the edge. And whoever had planted that story was almost certainly the one who had planted the jammer, as well.

Whoever that one was had used one of the cruelest ploys imaginable to see to it that Saavik and Metcalfe were successful in their conspiracy against—against who? Kirk? The Federation? Whoever their plot was directed at, Kirk would stop it. And whoever had helped them, he would see to it that they didn't spend another day aboard the _Enterprise_.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock, Saavik and Metcalfe use the Guardian of Forever to visit the recent past and make changes to history. Saavik spends one last night with David.

CHAPTER NINE

This time, it was snowing.

The surface around the Guardian was covered completely by a white blanket of snow. The Guardian, as ever, stood untouched and isolated in the center of the landscape. Saavik shivered at the sight of snow again after so many years.

Terry must have noticed her, for he looked over and grinned. "Well, Mr. Saavik, if we'd remembered to bring skis, this wouldn't be such a bad leave after all."

Before she had a chance to ask what "skis" were, Saavik saw movement in the corner of her eye. Several feet from the Guardian, a tent made of standard blue Starfleet-issue plastic had been erected. The door which held the temperature-regulated air in had drawn back, and Spock emerged. Apparently, he had brought the portable shelter with him from Vulcan—the _other_ Vulcan.

Out of sheer curiosity, Saavik looked at Terry, who was just now noticing his former teacher. His reaction was similar to what she had seen through the Guardian when another Terry had encountered this same Spock. He didn't seem to know whether to react with laughter or tears.

Noting his speechlessness, Spock greeted them first. "Lt. Metcalfe, I am pleased you were able to return here with Mr. Saavik. I take it she has briefed you?"

"I have," Saavik responded for him. Spock raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that she would answer a question that had been directed at another. Saavik had conluded, however, that Terry was too taken up by emotional reactions to be able to respond for several more seconds. As his friend, she felt it only proper that she respond for him while he was emotionally incapacitated.

"Yes," Terry confirmed, now recovered. "I understand our mission."

"Good," Spock said. "You and I will be the first to travel through the Guardian into this universe's past. We will go to Starfleet headquarters at Earth, specifically to Admiral Morrow's office. There I shall use the Vulcan mind meld on the Admiral in order to remove the alien influence from his mind."

"Alien influence?" Terry asked.

In response to this question, the booming voice of the Guardian broke out over the landscape. It was, after all, in a better position to explain than either Spock or Saavik was. "Your Admiral Morrow's mind has been controlled by another. He has not behaved in this universe as he normally would. Ordinarily, the _Enterprise_ would have been decommissioned and the Genesis planet declared under quarantine."

"Then someone tampered with his mind to create this separate universe?"

"Yes. And his mind is not the only one."

"Who?" Terry asked, astounded. Even though she had a vague knowledge of the changes that had been made in history to bring a separate universe about, Saavik did not know who had made those changes or why. She had not, therefore, explained to Terry that this was a _created_ universe.

"I cannot answer such questions," was the Guardian's reply.

"But you must know," Terry pressed, "You're the Guardian of Forever."

"Indeed," Spock agreed. "You, of all others, should know who is responsible."

"Yes," it admitted. "I do know, but I cannot and will not tell you. It is contrary to my purpose."

"But," Terry began to protest.

"No further discussion!" it commanded loudly. "You must carry out your missions! I will speak no more."

Spock raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "It would appear that we are not meant to know the exact nature of our mission."

"I don't like going off on any mission if I don't know the whole story," Terry grumbled. "I don't trust people who won't give me the facts—even omniscient people shaped like giant doughnuts."

Saavik took a moment to try and recall what a "doughnut" was and remembered a type of Earth pastry she had seen in the mess hall. Terry was always making references that puzzled her. "This is an important mission, Terry," she reminded him. "We know for a fact that disaster will result if we do not carry it out."

"Indeed we do," Spock said. "That much can be verified using simple mathematics."

He nodded. "I know." He sighed. "All right, tell me what we have to do."

* * *

Terry hadn't known what to expect when he'd first stepped through the Guardian's gateway into the past. After seeing the events of months past played out on what served inside the great being/machine as a kind of viewscreen, he had thought perhaps that he would see the events played before him as he actually moved backwards through time. Instead, however, the effect was little different from that of the _Enterprise's_ transporter.

After a brief period of nothingness, he had come back to consciousness. It was almost as if he had been asleep and suddenly awoken. In fact, he felt every bit as disoriented as he imagined he might if he had slept through months on end.

The corridors of Starfleet's headquarters complex in Earth orbit looked as they always did. There was nothing to suggest to the casual observer that this was four months ago—just as the _Enterprise_ was about to embark on the training cruise that would lead to its battle with the _Reliant_ and the death of Spock. All the same, Terry somehow sensed an atmosphere about him that identified this as that very time period.

He had, at most, a few minutes before Spock would be transported to his intended destination. He would have to use them to get to Morrow's office and carry out Spock's instructions. That shouldn't really present any problem. After all, _Phoenix_ would have just returned from her one-year stint on border patrol and Terry Metcalfe would be expected to be at HQ picking up his new assignment. In fact, the booth would be just down the hall…

" _Enterprise_! I got the _Enterprise_!"

Those words drifting down the hall from the computer station were familiar—as well they should have been. Terry had still not forgotten the shouts of ecstasy that had followed his assignment to the most legendary ship in the Fleet. How interesting, he thought, to return in time to witness such an important event—an event whose importance would soon be nil.

As "Terry" and Kevin Carson traded some last, derisive remarks, it suddenly occurred to the Terry who was visiting from the future that he was in great danger of being seen by the one person who would find his presence here unacceptable—himself. He had headed down this corridor to his quarters after picking up his orders that day.

His heart barely beating in his chest, Terry searched the area, trying to find some refuge, some hiding place. He must not be seen. Several meters down the hall, the refuge presented itself: a storage closet for various automated janitorial devices.

He would have to move quickly, for the footsteps that were so familiar, his own footsteps, were coming closer.

He prayed it would not be locked. It wasn't. After the door had pulled shut behind him, he pressed his ear against it—it had no need to be soundproofed—and listened.

The footsteps came up to the closet door and began to go past. Terry's footsteps, another Terry, a younger Terry. How would he react, confronted with his future self? It was tempting to find out, but he waited patiently until the hall was silent again.

Now he would have to make his way to Morrow; Spock would soon be ready. His "other self," in the meantime, would be in his temporary quarters, preparing for an assignment a month up the line—an assignment which, in the final scheme of things, would never come at all. Terry remembered the difficulty he had had that day packing all of the various pieces of junk he had collected during a year on border patrol. Most of it he had taken to Earth and had shipped from San Francisco to his family home. To the _Enterprise_ , he had taken only clothes and a few books. Books… he remembered his conversation with Saavik the other night. They had talked about books, and memories, and the new universe they would have to live in, without memory of each other.

The idea of participating in the re-creation of a "new" universe suddenly made Terry feel powerful. How many men, after all, were given the opportunity to change history? He and Spock were here to see to it that Harry Morrow changed history as he knew it, but Terry still didn't know if he liked the future he was helping to bring about. As one of the agents of change, shouldn't he be able to do something to make that future more attractive?

The books…

Suddenly, it occurred to Terry that there was, indeed, something he could do to make the future more attractive. It would take part of his precious time away from his mission with Spock, but he knew he could afford just a few moments.

* * *

When he had been placed in the temporary quarters on Starfleet's orbiting headquarters, Terry had been thoroughly annoyed by one aspect of his accommodations: the showers. There were two officers quartered in each room, but rooms did not have separate bathrooms. Every group of ten officers shared one bathroom. Terry's just happened to be the farthest one from the room he shared with Kevin.

It was for this reason—his great annoyance at having to make such a walk for a mere sonic shower—that Terry remembered well when he had gone that day. He had left his room some five minutes after picking up his assignment, hurrying in order to be finished before Kevin could get back and lecture him about getting water on the floor. Although sonic showers were dry, Terry washed his hair in the sink and thus dripped water on the floor. He couldn't stand the feeling of having his hair merely sonically cleansed.

And therein lay Terry's—the future Terry's—opportunity. The object he needed would be in its accustomed place on the shelf over his bed. It would be a simple matter for him to retrieve it now, while no one was in the room, and return to Morrow's office in plenty of time.

Naturally, the door responded to his voice code and opened. He stepped quietly into the room and wondered suddenly why he was bothering to be quiet. After all, he didn't expect anyone to be in the room at this moment.

He was startled, therefore, when a familiar voice called from within, "It wasn't locked, idiot!"

Shit! He had forgotten that Carson had been back when he had gotten out of the shower—and he had been lectured about the water on the floor. Kevin Carson lay sprawled on his bed on the opposite side of the room, drinking the generic liquid that the Starfleet food processors unjustifiably labeled, "beer."

"Where were you?" his friend asked.

"I, uh, went to take a shower," he managed clumsily. "I remembered a book I promised Sernak he could borrow, so I came back to get it first." He went to his shelf and plucked out the one volume he would need.

Carson watched and noticed which particular book he had selected from his small collection of original Earth printings. "Why the hell does Sernak want that?" he demanded. "His Vulcan ears might wilt."

Terry looked for a moment at his friend and smiled. He hadn't seen him since this week so long ago at HQ. Carson, of course, responded with a scowl that only made Terry laugh. He wondered briefly what would happen to him in the other universe. Realizing again how short his time was, Terry forced down the wash of sentiment that formed as he considered that this would be the last time he ever saw this particular Kevin. For all practical purposes, he would be another person when they met again.

"I'll be back soon," he said quietly, and went out the door. As soon as he was out of Carson's sight, he headed down the hall at top speed, hoping to avoid himself. He stopped only briefly to figure out the way to the Admiral's office.

Inside his uniform jacket was a pocket designed to hold a tricorder for landing party use. He stuffed the book into it and broke into a sprint toward the command offices.

* * *

Spock found himself materialized in a somewhat darkened corner of Admiral Harry Morrow's spacious office. At his desk, the Admiral himself was scanning the latest paperwork. The Guardian was so quiet a device that Morrow did not hear Spock's sudden appearance in the room. The Vulcan, therefore, took a few steps forward and cleared his throat softly to make his presence known.

Morrow looked up suddenly, startled. "Captain Spock! What are you doing here? I didn't hear you come in."

"I am," Spock informed him, "capable of considerable stealth should the occasion warrant it."

Morrow was not placated by this statement. "And what are you doing out of uniform?" he demanded, noticing Spock's Vulcan garb. "The _Enterprise_ is scheduled to leave in," he paused in his emotional dissertation to check the desk chronometer, "just under twenty minutes!"

"I assure you, Admiral, that the _Enterprise_ will leave dock on schedule," Spock told him truthfully. "In the meantime, I have an important task to attend to here."

Morrow, still recovering, Spock assumed, from his surprise, and obviously angered that Spock had violated the human convention of never entering a room unannounced, asked, "And what might that be, Captain?"

"I have become possessed of information," Spock explained, "which is crucial to the survival of the Federation. This information is of such a nature, however, that it cannot be successfully transmitted using standard, verbal means. I request your permission to use Vulcan mental techniques to contact your mind."

The Admiral did not respond favorably. "My mind?" he asked defensively, "why?"

"Because, Admiral, simply put, you would not find the information easily understandable were I to merely explain it to you."

"You mean I wouldn't believe it?"

"I believe that that is a fairly accurate restatement of my original postulation, Admiral," Spock acknowledged.

"And you want to use mind contact? How do I know," he asked suspiciously, "that you won't simply force me to believe, not merely the unbelievable, but the untrue as well?"

Spock experienced an uncomfortable sensation: an emotion of dislike quickly washed through him. He suppressed it, as it would be of no positive use in dealing with Morrow. Kirk had told him of Morrow's dislike—or rather distrust—of Vulcan "mysticism," but he had not been prepared to be accused of such a heinous act as that of deliberately manipulating the mind of another for personal gain. "No Vulcan," he said levelly, "would be capable of such a crime. To do as you suggest would violate every precept upon which our culture is constructed."

"I will not allow my mind to be toyed with, Captain," Morrow said officiously.

"How do you know, Admiral," Spock asked him, "that it has not already been toyed with?"

"Well, I… " Morrow stammered.

"If you would indulge me for a brief contact," Spock said in as soothing a voice as he knew how to use—the same voice he had used in dealing with Saavik when she was a child—"you would know that I meant you no harm."

Morrow swallowed hard but continued to meet Spock's gaze. "What does this contact involve?"

"It is a simple process. It does not even involve physical touching. You need only clear your mind of any distracting thoughts—"

"All right, Captain," Morrow agreed, nodding impatiently, "if this will allow me to get back to my work—and you to get back to your ship." Spock noticed that Morrow, despite his gruffness, was a good deal more pliable than usual. No doubt, this was the result of the tampering with his mind. He would have to be more pliable if he were to fail to make the decisions he was supposed to regarding the _Enterprise_ and Genesis.

The Admiral leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and allowed his face to become expressionless. As usual, Spock noted that humans made the process of mind-clearing more complex than it really was.

Reaching out with his mind, he projected simple thoughts about the inherent danger of the time paradox and the bridged universes. He also broadcast some images intended to calm the Admiral's fears regarding mind meld.

Moments later, when Morrow opened his eyes, Spock asked, "Do you see now, Admiral?"

Morrow did not attempt verbal response, but his face filled with dawning realization, as well as a new kind of fear. "May I proceed with the mind meld?" Spock prodded.

In subdued tones, Morrow said, "Yes, Captain. Yes, do so immediately."

* * *

Several meters from the door, Terry slowed his pace to a walk, taking time to straighten his uniform and hair. He didn't want it to appear that he had been running frantically through the corridors of HQ. He prayed that he would not be too late, for the success of this part of their mission depended on Spock's not being discovered inside Morrow's office. His job was to keep Morrow's secretary busy enough that she wouldn't have time to interrupt Spock; or, worse, send in visitors.

The job might just prove easier than he thought: the secretary in question was a young female ensign. Just by coincidence, she was also humanoid. Although Terry had learned to look beyond some of his Earth-bound prejudices, he couldn't help but prefer humanoids—females, in particular.

She was a pretty brunette with soft, golden eyes and a pleasing smile. As he smiled his own greetings in return, though, Terry could not help but notice that she seemed, somehow, too soft. Too… human? It was just that untouched appearance that bothered him, the feeling he got that she had led too sheltered a life.

Was it because he was comparing her to someone? Was it because she wasn't… Saavik?

Unsettled, Terry realized that the girl looked not a little like Angela, and a pang of guilt shot through him. Still, he put on his most charming smile for her and said softly, "Hello, Ensign."

She nodded and smiled again. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

"I wondered," he asked politely, as if ignorant of the outlandishness of his request, "if I might see the Admiral?"

She smiled apologetically and said, "Oh, I'm afraid he can't see anyone today—he's very busy. Is there a message?"

The girl practiced secretarial skills well. Terry knew damned well that any message he left would be summarily ignored by Morrow, if he got it at all. "Well," he said, trying to look just slightly disappointed, "I just wanted to thank him for my new assignment… and my promotion. You see," he lied, "I didn't think I would get it this time."

"Oh, I'm sure there wasn't any doubt," the girl said in a friendly manner. For some reason, Terry found himself resenting a compliment from a stranger—even an attractive one.

He tried to look bashful as he said, "Thanks." Before he could continue, there was a sound from the next room, a voice raised in alarm. The secretary's head snapped immediately to the door, and she started to rise.

"What's the matter?" he asked quickly.

"I—" she looked briefly at the door again, "I thought I heard the Admiral calling out."

"I didn't hear anything," he lied blandly.

"I'd better check anyway," she said worriedly, heading for the door. As soon as her back was turned, Terry pulled from his pocket the small hypo he'd taken from Spock's first aid kit earlier. It was filled with a mild, Vulcan anesthetic which would easily render any human unconscious for several minutes.

Just as the girl approached the door and reached for the buzzer, he crept up behind her and pressed it against her arm gently. She fell immediately against him. With luck, when she woke, she wouldn't have any idea what had happened. Lifting her, he carried her back to her chair and laid her in it in such a position that anyone who discovered her would assume she had just fallen asleep.

Behind him, the door hissed open. "Did you experience any difficulties, Lieutenant?" he heard Spock ask.

Terry finished positioning the girl's arms against the chair and desk. When she woke, it would probably be to Morrow's angry demands of "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He pitied the poor girl, for she would have no plausible answer to give him.

"None worth mentioning, Captain," he said as he replaced the hypo in his pocket.

"Did it work?"

Spock nodded. "Once I managed to help the Admiral overcome his more illogical prejudices about mind contact. He will remember nothing of what happened, but his mind is free."

Terry was quite tempted to ask once again exactly what it was that Morrow was now free of, but he knew Spock would not be able to answer. Only the Guardian knew what the force was behind these changes that had been effected in time, and it would tell them in its own good "time." If it told them at all…

* * *

Illogical a possibility as it was, being alone on the Time Planet seemed to amplify the cold of the wind and the blowing snow. Of course, some of the heat had left the immediate area when Spock and Terry had passed through the Guardian, but it was impossible for Saavik's body to be able to detect the difference. It was merely emotional fancy which made her feel that it could.

Before she could take the time to consciously wish that her two companions would return, the Guardian stirred. _Of course_ , she reminded herself, _The trip through the Guardian occupies no actual time. They have completed their mission already._

The human and the Vulcan materialized side-by-side in front of her and stepped forward from the gateway. As they greeted her, the Guardian's voice rang out. "It is your time, Saavik. You must begin your journey now."

"Yes," she acknowledged quietly. "I know."

Both Spock and Terry had noticed her distress regarding her part of their mission.

"Are you okay?" the young human asked. Saavik did not know how to answer. The truth would only alarm Terry, and she _did_ know how to lie. But she had never lied to a friend before, and she didn't believe she wanted to start.

She said nothing.

"Saavik," Spock said levelly, his tone commanding her to raise her eyes and look at him. Despite her unwillingness, she did so. Spock did not even raise an eyebrow at the moistness around the corners of her eyes. He merely went on speaking. "You do not have to do this. If you wish, I shall take your place."

He was offering her protection—protection against her own emotions and the guilt she would feel at sending one she loved knowingly to his death. She was tempted to accept, but Spock had raised her to face her problems, not ignore them. The very reason that he violated his own teachings by making such an offer, the bond of emotion that had existed between them since he had taken her from Hellguard, was the reason that shewas forced to refuse that offer.

"No, Spock. I will do this myself." _It will be I, and no other, who sees to it that David will die._

* * *

The corridors of the _Enterprise_ were quiet. It was ship's night now; and though there were three duty shifts who, between them, stayed awake twenty-four hours a day, no one who wasn't on duty was out tonight. The very air around Saavik suggested sadness and grief.

 _How illogical! A gaseous compound which is manufactured and maintained by the ship's computer-controlled ventilation system cannot possess emotion!_ And yet, the feeling was there. The crew had good reason not to be out carrying on with their usual high-spiritedness tonight, for it was the night after the wake. The crew was still mourning the comrades lost in the battle with _Reliant_ —Spock and Peter Preston. At this time in her life, they had been the only two people she cared for.

No, that wasn't true. There was one other she was developing positive feelings for: David Marcus, the Admiral's son. Saavik recalled vividly the night before this one that they had spent together in her quarters. And now, it was David she had come from the future to see.

In the other universe, David Marcus, true to his character, had angrily insisted on going to the Genesis planet with Saavik aboard USS _Grissom._ That journey had ended in his death. Here, in this universe, not only did _Grissom_ not come to ask for an _Enterprise_. officer to accompany them to Genesis—Harry Morrow had not ordered them to go there—but David had expressed no desire to explore his creation.

Saavik's job here was to do exactly the same for David as Spock had done for Morrow at an earlier time. Whatever was causing his mind not to respond as it normally would, Saavik would end its influence. And now, while her past self was on duty on the bridge and David was asleep in his quarters, was the time to do so.

The door to his quarters opened to her voice command, and she entered the darkened room. Touching a control pad on the wall, she brought the lighting in the room up to half-intensity. The gentle glow which filled the room revealed David sleeping soundly on the bed. In many literary works on Earth, Saavik had read that the human face appeared gentle and innocent as it slept, despite the character it might be used to displaying.

David, despite his normal youthful intensity and quick temper, appeared much more peaceful than any human she had ever observed. Of course, she had never seen a human sleep before. She had only seen them dead.

As David soon would be.

She put the thought from her mind. She must not allow it to distract her from what she must do. The mind meld, after all, required great concentration and effort—especially if one of those involved in the meld was uninitiated into Vulcan mental techniques.

Taking several deep breaths, she composed herself and approached the bed. After one last glance at David's sleeping face, she touched his uncovered shoulder. He stirred.

Blinking his eyes against the light, he murmured sleepily, "Saavik?"

"Yes," she replied gently, reaching out to stroke his tangled hair.

"I thought you were on duty," he said, rubbing his eyes and raising up to look around at the chronometer. "Are you off already?"

"I… arranged to be finished early," she explained.

"Oh," he laughed, "how did you manage that?" His laugh was harsh, sarcastic. She had heard it a hundred times but had never stopped to appreciate it before. This could be the last time she would ever hear it.

"It isn't important," she told him, rubbing his cheek. "But," she went on in the same conspiratorial tone a human might have used, "perhaps it would be best if you didn't mention that I was here to anyone."

David grinned his understanding. He thought, of course, that she had slipped irresponsibly off the bridge while no one was looking to come here and engage in sexual activities. Let him think so. "Well," he said, "I'd hardly go around announcing it."

"That is wise," she agreed.

"And what secret purpose are you here for?" David asked.

Strange that he would call her purpose secret, for indeed it was. "I have," she explained, "been conducting some… research on matters of human… emotion." They both smiled at the private joke. Saavik had referred to their first night together as a "study." And, indeed, it had been, every bit as much as the studying she had done at Terry's suggestion. Strange that it had not crossed her mind until Terry had pointed it out that both of them might have referred to sexual activity in the same way. She hadn't known a human's sense of humor could corelate so well with the one she was developing.

And she hadn't realized how attracted Terry was to her. She had assumed that his attentions were directed solely at Commander Teller. Now that she had seen her error, she couldn't help wondering how exactly she felt towards Terry. _Stop it! You should be thinking of David._

Where had she been? Oh, yes. "My theoretical research is progressing well," she went on, "but I don't believe I've had ample opportunity to experiment."

David used an expression that Saavik couldn't decide the exact nature of. It might have been meant to convey amusement or hurt feelings. The two hardly seemed compatible. "I thought we had already carried out some quite satisfactory experiments."

Saavik smiled, deciding that this was the proper time to do so. Showing emotion was so difficult! "True," she agreed, "but only under one set of conditions, and only with limited repetitions. True experimentation should take numerous samples for study, don't you agree?"

"Whole-heartedly," David said. He reached toward her, smiling, and raised the sheet which covered him. "Come here."

As David caressed her face and gently assisted her in removing her uniform, Saavik ran herself through a last set of relaxation exercises in preparation for the coming meld. As he took her into his arms, however, Saavik forgot her exercises.

Soon she had forgotten almost everything.

Slowly, she forced herself to take control of her mind. Now was the time to act, at the height of their emotional and physical excitement. She moved her hand slowly from his thigh and brought it to his temple. Technically, it didn't have to be there. Simple physical contact was enough; but this would be a difficult meld, and she wanted to go through the proper, disciplined maneuvers.

His mind was much like his father's. Theirs, of course, were the only two human minds she had ever been in contact with. Perhaps their similarity lay partly in their very humanity. Some of it, however, was definitely in their characters. She felt the same strength of will she had felt in James's mind, but this time it was active, awake.

This was the first time she had ever experienced such a sensation: the joining of both mind and body. It was more than the sum of the two separate joinings; the effect was multiplied, heightened to the greatest of extremes. She felt as if she and David were one in every sense of the word. They were.

She never wanted it to end.

_No, Saavik. It will never end._

Never, but…

_But what, Saavik?_

It will end. Soon.

No! She was losing control of the meld! David was finding the very thoughts she had to keep from him.

_Am I going to die, Saavik?_

No, my love. You will live forever. Through me.

_I'm afraid._

So am I, David. Do not worry. I'm with you. We are one.

_Yes. I'm not afraid when you're with me._

Good. Be calm, all will be well—for all of us, including your father.

_Jim? You'll take care of him._

I will, We will.

_We will. I love you, Saavik._

And I love you, David. Now I know the meaning of the word.

You're going away!

I must. The joining must end. I will never be far.

_I understand._

Good, my love. It's time to go.

_Saavik?_

Yes, David?

_There are dragons, my love._


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and Uhura discover the identities of the conspirators about the Enterprise. Metcalfe runs a private errand in the past. Spock makes the final adjustment in time stream.

CHAPTER TEN

_Captain's Log, Stardate: 8150.1_

_Commander Uhura is effecting repairs on our sabotaged comm system with all the speed her department can muster._

_I am still puzzled by the behavior of Admiral Morrow during my last transmission, and thus I have not advised Starfleet of our situation with Lieutenants Saavik and Metcalfe. If our comm system is not repaired in time for me to reach_ Excelsior _and head off my two missing officers, I may find myself with no other choice than to disobey the Admiral's order that I avoid the Time Planet. Should this become necessary, I take full responsibility for the actions of this ship and its crew and for the consequences thereof._

"Is it ready?" Kirk asked as Uhura approached his chair.

She nodded. "Assuming there aren't any more surprises waiting for us inside the system somewhere."

Kirk smiled, even he was beginning to appreciate the humor of the situation.

"They're tricky, aren't they?"

"Look who they learned it from," she said with a meaningful glance.

Kirk tried to look innocent. "Commander, are you suggesting that Starfleet Academy encourages mutiny and thievery among its cadets?"

"I wasn't 'suggesting' anything, Admiral. I know damn well where they learned it."

She laughed silently at him and added, "I have the _Excelsior_ , sir. Hailing frequencies open."

Kirk considered giving her a swat as she walked away, but thought the better of it. The majority of the bridge crew—now, especially, was new. And the senior officers shouldn't display behavior that was too insubordinate just yet.

Without needing to be asked, Uhura transferred her channel to _Excelsior_ onscreen. The spacious bridge of the other ship took shape, with Hikaru Sulu in the center of the picture—seated in the command chair. He looked quite comfortable there. As the image flashed completely into view, he smiled at Kirk. "Hello, Admiral. I've been meaning to call, but we couldn't raise you." He looked puzzled. "Has something been wrong?"

Kirk heard a quiet groan from behind him and looked to Uhura. She was shaking her head in disgust. "I didn't check the reception circuits," she said pitifully.

That probably meant there was another jamming device. Someone had done his job well. "We've been experiencing some difficulty," Kirk explained. "Are Saavik and Terry still aboard?" he asked, not wanting to waste time.

"No, Admiral," Hikaru responded, again puzzled. "We left them on the Time Planet as per your order."

"Damn!" Kirk said under his breath.

Sulu heard it and asked, "What's wrong?"

Kirk sighed. "I didn't _give_ that order, Hikaru. Terry… forged it."

Shock and horror turned Hikaru's face stark white. "Terry?" he asked numbly. He didn't believe it, Kirk could tell. Terry Metcalfe had been his protege aboard his first command. He didn't _want_ to believe it. "Jim, are you… are you sure?"

"I'm sure Hikaru, and I'm sorry."

"But he wouldn't," Sulu protested. "He'd never betray you—or the fleet. Why would he…?" he trailed off in confusion. "I don't believe it."

"I don't quite believe it myself," Kirk admitted. "There has to be an explanation, and I'll find it. Do you know what they were doing on the Time Planet?"

Sulu shook his head. "Not a thing. Terry told me it was top secret."

"And you had no reason to doubt him," Kirk said sympathetically.

"No, Sir," he agreed, ashamed. He sighed and straightened in his seat. "Should I return to the Time Planet? We could be there in—"

"That's quite all right, Captain," Kirk cut him off. "I'll attend to it myself."

"Yes, of course," Hikaru agreed, disappointed. "Good luck."

. "Thank you, Captain. _Enterprise_. out." Kirk motioned for Uhura to cut the channel. She had already done so, and was now on her knees in front of the comm station, removing the maintenance plate as she cursed heavily in Swahili.

* * *

Two hours later, Uhura was standing by his side, displaying an object almost identical to the first jammer thay had found.

"That was on the receiving unit?" Jim asked.

"I can't believe I overlooked the possibility," she said, shaking her head. "If I had found this earlier, Hikaru might have gotten in touch with us in time."

Jim nodded. "He said he'd tried. That means he was suspicious too. Unfortunately, he wasn't suspicious enough to risk disobeying what he thought were my orders."

"I'm surprised," Uhura said, thinking out loud, "that they didn't sabotage our Fleet channels as well."

"No," he replied bitterly, "no, they needed those. It was part of their plan."

Uhura did not miss the bitterness in his voice. "Their plan, sir?"

He looked at her for a long moment. _She could be the one._ But she seemed genuinely concerned; and he couldn't see Uhura, after their long years of friendship and service together, betraying him. Of course, he couldn't see Scotty or Chekov doing it either, and he'd ruled out Angela. Could he discuss this with any of them? _Might as well_ , he concluded. _I can't keep quiet forever_.

"I hadn't told anyone," he said quietly, "But when I asked for permission to go to the Guardian, Morrow refused."

Uhura was shocked, whether at the refusal or Kirk's deliberate violation of it, he didn't know. "Refused? Why?"

Kirk shook his head. "I didn't understand at first, but later it became apparent that someone had fed Harry a story about my… erratic behavior, I suppose. He refused because he thought I was planning to use the Guardian for.. improper purposes."

It was hardly a thorough explanation, but she accepted it.

"And you decided to go anyway?" Uhura asked, raising her eyebrows. "You're taking a big chance."

He nodded soberly. "If we don't stop Saavik and Metcalfe, we could be taking a bigger one. Morrow didn't even believe they had gone to the Guardian."

"But who fed him this story?"

He shrugged. "Probably the same person who jammed the comm system. I just can't figure out—"

Uhura drew in a sharp breath. A silent, "Oh my God," escaped her lips.

"What?"

"I… " she stammered.

"Uhura," Jim pressed. "What is it?"

She shut her eyes tightly and tried to avoid his gaze. Whatever she had suddenly thought of, she didn't want to say it.

"Commander, if you know something relevant to our mission—"

She nodded quickly. "I know, sir," she said, and Kirk could hear a sob in her voice. When she looked up, however, her face was composed, as a first officer's should be. "Ensign M'saar asked me the other day why—I didn't think anything of it at the time, but—" she stopped and collected herself again. "She was curious as to why someone would be making a private call to Admiral Morrow."

"A private—?" Kirk sputtered. "Who?"

Uhura looked at the floor and barely whispered, "Leonard… Dr. McCoy."

Jim's jaw dropped in shock. He simply didn't believe it. _Why?_ "Bones?" he demanded, but Uhura couldn't bring herself to answer. She ran to the turbo lift and off the bridge.

 _Bones!_ _How could you? Why?_ Kirk could not see beyond the rage and pain that burned in his mind. In his entire life, he had never felt so betrayed. Uhura, Chekov, Scotty… all his other friends he had expected, but Bones? He wouldn't have the technical skill…

Jim banished the false hope. He could have found someone who did.

Furious, he stepped toward the turbo lift. A voice interrupted his angry thoughts—Chekov's voice. "Edmiral?"

He turned, trying to keep his temper in check. "Yes?"

"Vhere will you be, sair?"

Tightening his jaw, he prctically spat the word, "Sickbay." As he turned again to the turbo lift, he added without looking back, "You have the con, Mr. Chekov."

* * *

Before Bones could ask any questions, Kirk stalked in his office door and demanded, "All right, Bones, I want answers. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Without even trying to evade the question or make an excuse, McCoy asked calmly, "So you found out?"

Startled, Jim lowered his voice and said icily, "Yes. I found out."

McCoy nodded. "Well, I half expected it," he said, turning slowly in his chair. "Who told you?"

Jim suppressed a very strong impulse to take a swing at the doctor. How could he be so calm? "Does it really matter how I found out?" he asked bitterly. "I want to know why you did it! Why did you feed Morrow that pack of lies about me? Why did you go to the Guardian with Saavik? Who did you get to install the jammers in the comm system?" He stopped, blind with rage and confusion, fighting off the tears that threatened to come to his eyes. "Bones," he asked pleadingly, "why did you betray me?"

McCoy stood and came around the desk to face Jim. "It wasn't betrayal, Jim," he said gently. "What I did had to be done. I'm sorry you're the one who's suffering, but believe me—"

"I'm not the only one who's going to be suffering, Doctor, believe me.," he said savagely. "When I do get my hands on Saavik and Metcalfe—and I will—they're finished, they'll be tried for mutiny. Along," he said with as much sheer anger as he could, trying to mask his pain that his oldest and dearest friend—living friend, that is—had betrayed him. "Along with whoever is found to have assisted them.

"Morale has already gone straight to hell. I've lost two of the finest officers aboard, and now I'm going to be forced to eliminate others. Whatever the hell this plan of yours is, it's cost us the best damn ship in the fleet." He put his face next to McCoy's and said, "I won't leave this room until I know what it was you found so important!"

McCoy stared at the floor, shaking his head. "I can't tell you that, Jim," he said quietly.

"What the hell do you mean you can't tell me? You'll have to tell the trial board, anyway!" He immediately regretted saying that. He hadn't come here to make threats… or had he? He'd been too angry to know why he'd come. Now he was forcing himself to think straight. McCoy was his friend, and he wouldn't do something like this without a damn good reason. All right, he would take another approach. He would stop acting like a Fleet Admiral and try to act like an old friend.

"Bones," he said stiffly, forcing gentleness into his voice. He reached slowly out and took his friend's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Allowing sentiment to control him, he felt the tears coming again. He blinked them back. "Bones, why? I know you must have a reason. You can't convince me you'd do something like this out of spite. What is it? Why can't you tell me?"

McCoy looked up. "I just can't, Jim. If I could—"

"Bones, if there's a problem, let me help! I'll do anything I can to—"

"There's nothing you can do, Jim," Bones replied miserably. "This whole campaign has been deliberately engineered to keep you from finding out. You can't know." He shut his eyes and added, "I'm sorry."

"Bones, I have to know!"

McCoy turned away, his fists clenched. When he spoke at last, his voice was rough. "Jim, please. Just stop asking questions. It's for the best. Just… just leave me alone… please."

Jim Kirk could tell the something was _very_ wrong with his friend, but he couldn't get Bones to tell, and he was growing tired of trying. If McCoy didn't want to tell his best friend, then the hell with him. Kirk didn't have any idea what could make him do a thing like this, and he didn't really care anymore. Anger returned to take him over.

"As soon as we've found Saavik and Metcalfe, we'll be returning to Earth. As of that moment, you will no longer be this ship's surgeon. Until then, Dr. McCoy, stay the hell out of my sight!" McCoy made no attempt at response. Kirk, too upset to do anything else, returned to his quarters.

* * *

Leonard McCoy stood by his desk, trying to compose himself. He had known that, if Kirk found out, a confrontation would not be easy for either of them; but he hadn't expected to feel so drained. He hadn't known how tempted he would be to tell Kirk everything.

He knew that Jim considered it a hostile rejection of his friendship when he asked to be left alone. In truth, he had been on the verge of answering all his friend's questions; and that was the one thing he could not do. As a doctor, he knew damn well that the times you felt this bad were the worst times to have a drink, but whenever he felt like this, he went straight to the cabinet for bourbon.

As he turned to go to it, he was startled to see Christine standing behind him. How long had she been there? Her expression was half angry, half confused. She had been there long enough to hear…

"Hello, Christine," he said, clearing his throat as he discovered that his voice was too rough to be heard.

For a moment, Chris did not respond, looking at him as if to find answers in his face. Then she said softly, "You didn't tell me."

McCoy didn't know if it was a question or an accusation. Probably both, he decided.

"I… I couldn't."

"Why is she doing it, Leonard?" Chris asked desperately. "What's driving Saavik to do these things?"

Christine was really upset. What had been on that tape? Vulcans had a horrible tendency to tell the truth. "She has to do them," he said gently. "If she had a choice—"

"You're not going to tell me either, are you?"

McCoy had no choice but to tell the truth. "No, I'm not. I can't."

"I should have known," she said sadly. "I guess I did." She stopped, adjusting a sloppy stack of reports on his desk nervously. "Did you leave the tape on my desk?"

He nodded. "Saavik asked me to." Her expression didn't change any. She looked miserable. "Are you all right, Chris?"

She didn't seem to notice his question. She spoke distantly, as if he weren't really there. "Saavik said she hoped I could forgive her."

"She meant it," he assured her.

Again, she took no notice. "She said, 'if we don't see each other again… ' Dammit, Leonard! What does that mean? Where _is_ she going?"

"Even I don't know the answer to that, Chris," he said apologetically, silently cursing that Vulcan honesty as he spoke.

She shook her head. "No, of course you don't." Her voice, too, was unsteady, and McCoy saw that she was beginning to cry. He moved forward to put his arms around her. She immediately returned the embrace. "Leonard," she said quietly against his shoulder, "could you please just tell me that I haven't lost her?"

McCoy felt his own eyes tearing. He couldn't tell her that, either.

* * *

Uhura cursed herself for running from the bridge that way, without saying where she would be. Jim must surely have thought she has lost complete control of herself. In a way, perhaps, she had failed to control herself as an officer should. However, it was not anger or inability to face the captain that had brought her here, it was sudden realization—the sudden realization that only one person could be responsible for those jammers.

McCoy, of course, did not have the capability to build or install them. He would have had to find someone to do it for him. Add to that Scotty's behavior when she had tried to talk to him about it earlier… and who else would the Doctor go to? He and Scotty were close friends. He could have hoped to explain to no one else a scheme as wild as this one must be.

But what, she wondered, as she approached the engineering section, was she going to do next? Would she just go in and place Scotty under arrest? Would she demand an explanation—surely, he had one?

No, whatever she did, she had to remember what Pavel had said. She had to remember that Scotty was her friend and deserved, if nothing else, a sympathetic ear to listen to his reasons. She would ask him calmly why he had done this, and, after she had considered all he had told her, she would make her report to the captain.

As she entered the main engineering section, the ensign on duty at the door stood, snapping to attention. He was a trifle surprised to see her, the first officer wasn't down here often. "Where's Mr. Scott?" she asked the young man.

"In his office, Commander," was his reply. The ensign seemed… in awe of her? Was that the response she evoked from young men these days? She had always been treated with due respect, of course, but she wasn't used to anybody seeing her as just an officer.

She didn't like the feeling.

Swallowing hard, she pressed the door buzzer to Scotty's office. On his invitation, she walked casually in, trying to control the tightening muscles in her stomach.

Scotty looked up with one eye from his computer display. "What can I do for you, lass?" he asked.

"Jim found out who's responsible," she said with no inflection to her voice.

His face sank. He made no deliberate attempt to pretend innocence, but he said nothing.

"Scotty," she said gently, "I know Leonard is partially responsible—Jim's gone to his office already—but he couldn't have planted those jammers."

"No," he agreed quietly.

"Scotty—" she began.

He interrupted, "I did it, Uhura."

Of course, she knew that already, but hearing it from his lips still shook her.

She went around the desk and sat on its edge, facing him. "Why?" she asked. "Please, Scotty, I don't understand. Why are you doing this—any of you?"

"Because o' Jim, lass."

"What did he do?"

"It's nae wha' he did. It's what we've got t'do f'r him."

Had his statement not been so solemn, it would have been laughable, but solemn it was. "Do _for_ him? Do you know what this will do to him when he finds out? He already knows—"

"Too much," Scotty finished softly. "Don't tell him anymore."

"I have to!" she insisted.

"No, ye don't." Scotty reached out and took her by the shoulders. "Trust me, Uhura. Just f'r a day or two. After thot, if ye think ye've got to tell Jim, go ahead."

Uhura turned it over in her mind. Not tell Jim? Make herself a part of the plan? What was the plan? It must have some merit for Scotty and McCoy to be involved. As a first officer, it was her duty to find out… her job…

_'I'm not sure I like your job or what it's doing to you.'_

"Scotty, I don't know… "

"We've been friends for a long time, lass," he reminded her. She felt herself weakening. "Can't ye trust me f'r just a wee bit longer? I wouldna' do enathin' t'hurt Jim. "

"I believe you," she said slowly, "but—"

He squeezed her shoulders and smiled. "Then dinna say enathin'. Please?"

This, of course, was the kind of problem a first officer—or anyone in authority—was confronted with all the time: Follow your duty or you heart. Her duty, of course, told her to report Scotty to Kirk immediately. And her heart? Scotty was her friend, but so was Jim. Which one did she betray? Scotty said this was for Jim's good. Was he lying?

No, of course he wasn't. But was he right? Would this help Jim?

Spock would have used logic, and Spock would have needed more information to make a decision. But she obviously wasn't going to get any more information, and logic obviously wasn't going to work. Was she a fool to believe Scotty? Or would she be a hard-hearted bitch to report him?

Well, it was only two days. What could happen in two days? "All right, Scotty. I'll wait."

* * *

It was less than a day later that the _Enterprise_ arrived at the Time Planet for its second visit in as many months. Kirk had hardly left his quarters in that time, leaving Chekov and Uhura to tend to the bridge. He, in the meantime, had slept, praying that, when he woke, all of what had happened would be nothing but a dream. .

But it hadn't been. He had been brought rudely back to unpleasant reality by the buzzing of the intercom. They had arrived. Now he was in the transporter room with Chekov and Uhura, preparing to beam down. Really, he should be sending down a security force; but he wanted to handle this himself. And he wanted to take along the two officers he could still trust. That was assuming, of course, that he could still trust anyone.

Securing his phaser to his belt, he mounted the platform. "Are we ready?" he asked his two companions. They both nodded quietly. Kirk hadn't discussed the situation with McCoy with anyone, but Uhura had obviously told Pavel. Neither one of them felt any more like talking than he did.

As Kirk turned to the console to give Chief Rand the order to energize, the transporter room doors snapped open. Behind them was McCoy. He was fully outfitted for a landing party in his burgundy uniform coat, carrying his tricorder and medi-kit. Chekov and Uhura traded shocked glances as Kirk met McCoy's eyes silently.

"Doctor," he said coldly, "you were not ordered to report here."

McCoy came forward and stepped onto the platform without a word. Once beside Kirk, he spoke. "Ship's Surgeon is standard landing party complement, sir. Surely you hadn't forgotten that?"

The words bit into Kirk. Of course he knew that, but he hadn't thought McCoy would have the nerve to show up here! Why had he come? Was this part of his plan too? "This is not an exploratory mission," he replied simply.

"In point of fact, Sir," McCoy said acidically, "this isn't a mission at all. The _Enterprise_ wasn't given orders to come here."

Kirk winced. Of course, they all knew this was a direct violation of orders, but he hadn't wanted to think about it.

His lack of verbal response was enough answer for McCoy. "Then why don't we call it exploratory and take standard complement? That's assuming, of course, that I'm still Ship's Surgeon, Admiral?"

"You know the answer to that question, Doctor. All right, come along. We might as well have all the conspirators together." He waved an angry hand at the console, and the landing party beamed out.

* * *

As he materialized in the corridor on deck five, Terry realized this would probably be the last time he would ever see the _Enterprise_. This, after all, was the last of the three missions. He was still uncertain as to how Spock and Saavik had known what to do, but Spock had explained to him that they would now return to the ship before its departure from Genesis. Once there, they would have to find McCoy and restore Spock's _katra_ to him. Somehow, it had been removed.

Once they had completed this last mission, time would be able to take its normal course: Morrow would decommission the Enterprise and declare Genesis off limits; David Marcus would accompany Saavik to Genesis where he would meet his death; and, lastly, McCoy would be driven to go to Vulcan and implant Spock's _katra_ in his waiting body.

It was all quite beyond belief, but it was impossible to refute. Once Spock and Saavik had explained it to him—slowly—Terry had discovered that it all made incredible sense. Still, one thing troubled him; who or what had caused the changes in history to come about in the first place?

He spotted a crewman coming his way and realized that he had no time left to ponder unanswered questions. At this moment, the funeral for Spock would be underway in the torpedo bay. All of the crew not involved in vital assignments would be attending. If one was wandering the halls, it probably meant the funeral was over.

If many others came this way, he would have to find some place to hide himself.

He couldn't afford to take the chance of being seen by anyone on board who knew him. Only McCoy would see him. Down the corridor was the emergency ladder which ran between decks. He went to it and climbed down until he was invisible to passersby on this deck or the one below—he almost laughed as he imagined some unsuspecting cadet leaving a solemn funeral to discover a pair of disjointed legs hanging in midair.

He watched an endless parade of officers and cadets pass his lookout point. Finally, there came faces he recognized. Hikaru, accompanied by Uhura and Chekov, came by as the number of mourners began to thin out. The three of them moved slowly, one occasionally saying something to the others in quiet tones; but, for the most part, they were silent.

Fortunately McCoy was not with them. He would have to get McCoy alone—even if it meant breaking into his quarters. Briefly, as the corridor emptied out, he wondered where Kirk was. Perhaps he had remained after the others or gone to his quarters earlier. As he considered this, a tall, blonde young man in civilian clothes came by. Terry shrank even farther down into the alcove as he realized that this was David Marcus.

He moved by quickly, apparently determined to get somewhere soon.

As David disappeared around the bend of the corridor, Terry caught his breath. McCoy was coming now. He scanned in both directions to make sure he wouldn't be seen, and quietly pulled himself back up onto the deck. As the Doctor, shoulders slouched and head hung, approached the ladder alcove, Terry stepped out in front of him, blocking his path.

McCoy looked up, startled by this object in his way. "Excuse me, son," he said quietly. "I'm in a hurry."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but there's an emergency which requires your immediate attention."

McCoy shook his head. "Dr. Chapel's on call right now, Lieutenant. Call her in sickbay." As he started to go, he halted, looking Terry over. "Don't I know you?" he asked.

Terry tried not to look alarmed. "I'm sure you've seen me around, Doctor. Now please. It can't wait for Dr. Chapel—"

McCoy snapped his fingers. "You're Terry Metcalfe! I was on your cadet cruise."

His satisfaction with placing Terry's face quickly disappeared, however, to be replaced with a frown. "But you're not supposed to be here!"

"That's not important, Doctor," Terry said urgently. "You must come with me immediately."

"All right," McCoy agreed wearily. "Is someone injured?"

"You might put it that way, sir," he said mysteriously and motioned for the Doctor to follow him. He walked the several meters to Spock's quarters, McCoy silently in tow.

When he stopped there, McCoy stared at him in disbelief. "Here?" he demanded. "Lt. Metcalfe, if this is some kind of joke—"

"It's no joke," Terry assured him. "Please go inside."

"But this is Spock's cabin! It's empty!" McCoy protested.

"No," Terry said gently, "there's someone in there who needs to see you very badly. Please, Doctor, can it hurt to look?"

"I suppose not, McCoy admitted. He called his name to the computer and it obediently opened the door for him. With one last threatening look in Terry's direction, he went into the darkened room. Terry waited for a moment and allowed the door to close. Now it was in Spock's hands.

He had accomplished his purpose here, since no one would enter Spock's quarters this soon after his death. He was now free to complete his own personal part of this mission. He felt the tricorder pocket at his hip. The book was still there. He headed down the corridor toward the junior officers' quarters.

He stopped at Saavik's door, uncertain. He wasn't sure where she would be right now. She had said she had been on the bridge following the funeral, but mightn't she have stopped off at her quarters for a few minutes first? He pressed the door buzzer, hoping not to hear an answer from within.

There was none.

Giving the computer his name and rank as a newly assigned officer, he prayed that it had been fed the information on its new assignments before leaving on this cadet cruise. He sighed in relief as the door opened in response to his command.

Saavik's quarters were quite barren. Of course, she had really had little chance to use them on this mission. He knew that, had she lived in them for a full week, they would be an ungodly mess right now. But she had been quite busy of late in this time period.

Going to her bedside shelf, he pulled out the book. It was nearly three-hundred years old, paperback, yet still intact. It had been a present from his grandfather when he left for the Academy. Of all the possessions he had carried with him to _Phoenix_ and _Enterprise_ , it was his most prized.

From Saavik's desk, he picked up a pen and wrote quickly on the inside front cover. He ran his fingers over the cracked spine for a few moments, admiring the cover with its fading artwork and stamped lettering. He hoped it would mean as much to Saavik as it always had to him.

With a sigh, he tossed the book on her shelf and left the room.

* * *

McCoy did not bother yet to turn the lights on. Spock wondered if the Doctor somehow sensed his presence in the darkness. He rose quietly from his meditation block, where he had been preparing himself for this contact. Ordinarily, the _katra_ was implanted only when the death of the body was imminent. It took considerable will for a Vulcan healthy in both mind and body, and under no immediate threat of death, to place the essence of his mind in another.

He was fully prepared now. There was no need for further delay. "Doctor?" he called.

The dark figure by the door froze but did not answer. "Doctor?" he repeated. "Leonard, it is illogical not to answer."

The figure turned to where it perceived the voice to be coming from. "And it's goddamn crazy to talk to ghosts!"

Yes, of course, the classical McCoy bravado: gruff, over-emotional, human. Spock attempted to reason with him using fact and logic. "I am not a ghost. I am substantial."

"Would you mind telling me how that's possible?" demanded McCoy, waving his arms.

"I cannot, Doctor," he said apologetically. "But you must cooperate with me. It is essential."

McCoy's head cocked. "Cooperate?"

"Yes. You see," he explained, "I am not dead. That is, I will not be if you consent to help me."

"Help you how?"

Good. The Doctor's natural human curiosity was replacing his fear and distrust. Spock could deal with him now. "In the engine room, before I entered the compartment—"

"You knocked me out, you pointed-eared bastard!"

Spock allowed himself the slightest of smiles. He derived an illogical enjoyment from provoking McCoy's erratic temper. "I am pleased that you remember. I also placed something in your mind, something that has been removed. I must replace it."

'"Something?''' McCoy asked emphasizing the word. "That's not a very technical term coming from you."

"The technical term—if you wish to call it that—is ' _katra_.'"

As Spock expected, that knowledge was of little benefit to McCoy. "And what is it?" he asked.

"My consciousness," Spock replied, "my memories—my soul, if you will."

"You put _that_ in me?"

"I had little choice at the time."

He saw McCoy's silhouetted head shake in exasperation. "I don't believe this."

"You are free not to," Spock told him, "but will you trust me?"

"I never have before!"

As usual, Spock found himself growing a bit tired of McCoy's bickering. He had decided long ago that the Doctor took the same illogical pleasure in trying to provoke him as he did in trying to provoke the doctor. Sometimes he came very close to succeeding. "Please, Doctor. There is little time."

"Little time for what?" McCoy demanded.

"I cannot spend an excess amount of time in this period of history. The longer I stay, the greater the possibility that I will in some way interfere with the proper course of time."

"You're… from the future?"

"Yes, Doctor. I came through the Guardian."

"The Guardian?" McCoy's voice was edged with grudging respect. "Damn, Spock, how did you manage to work that? The Guardian's off limits."

"That is not important, Doctor. I am here. The _katra_ has been taken from your mind in an attempt to change the future. I will put it back."

"Who's trying to change the future?"

"That is irrelevant. Their attempts will prevent my ability to return to functional existence. Is this not reason enough to help me?"

There was a pause, then McCoy said, "I'm thinking."

"Really, Doctor," Spock said in disgust. He was well aware of the fact that McCoy, as surgeon, was bound to save his life by oath. He knew also that McCoy's human ties of friendship were every bit as strong as those of a Vulcan.

"All right," McCoy said finally. "Put this kahhtrra—"

" _Katra_."

" _Katra_ ," McCoy said with some difficulty, "back in my head, and then I can go back to my quarters and go to sleep and pretend that it was all a dream. It probably is anyway," he grumbled as an afterthought.

"If you Wish," Spock offered, "I will see to it that you remember it that way."

"All right," he agreed, taking a few steps forward, "what do you want me to do?"

"Sit down," Spock told him.

The implanting was a brief process, and when Spock had finished, seeing to it that the events of tonight would be remembered only as a fragment of a dream, he helped McCoy to stand and led him to the door. He would walk back to his quarters now, go to sleep, and forget.

And soon, he would remember.

When McCoy had gone, Lt. Metcalfe entered the darkened room. "Are we ready?" he asked.

Spock began to answer his former student's somewhat unnecessary question, but he had not yet produced the words when the tingling sensation of the Guardian came over his body. Soon, they were experiencing what seemed to be an upward movement through time at a high rate of speed.

It was, Spock thought, as though the body had acquired a great deal of kinetic energy quite suddenly and had made a great leap into the future. At the end of the leap was the gateway of the Guardian of Forever. This was an oddly poetic, non- technical way of thinking of the process, but Spock's years among humans had taught him to think non-technically on occasion. Spock took the few steps forward that would bring him out of the Guardian's time field and halted in his tracks.

A small collection of golden sparkles was just fading away in front of the arch of the Guardian. As the bright, intense light of the transporter beam died, Spock found himself face to face with Jim Kirk.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk confronts the suddenly resurrected Spock... almost. The Guardian of Forever determines the final fate of David Marcus.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Spock felt the irrational urge to try to run somewhere and hide. Of course, it would have done no good. Jim would see him as soon as he materialized.

He never had the chance. A sudden burst of light came from beside the Guardian and hit Kirk, who collapsed on the frozen ground. On Spock's left, Saavik advanced, phaser drawn, on the fallen admiral's companions: Chekov, McCoy and Uhura. The two younger officers wore expressions of utter shock. McCoy knelt immediately by Kirk and began looking him over while Chekov drew his own phaser and pointed it at Saavik.

"I hev no idea what's gotten into the two of you," the Russian security chief began in anger, "but you've—"

Seeing that none of the landing party had noticed him, Spock took advantage of the element of surprise in an attempt to prevent further injury. "That will not be necessary, Mr. Chekov," he called out in a commanding voice.

Chekov spun, his face white. Uhura gasped so that the sound must have been loud even in human ears. "Meester Spock?" Chekov asked, his jaw hanging open.

Spock stepped out of the Guardian and came forward to stand by him. "Yes, Commander."

He turned to face Uhura. "If you will both give us a moment to explain—" he began, but Uhura rushed forward and cut him off by catching him up in what, for a human, was an extremely tight embrace.

She pulled back, and Spock saw tears in her eyes. "Is it really?" she fumbled with her words, "I mean—"

Spock nodded gently and released her. "It is I, Ms. Uhura. All will be clear in a moment."

"Yes,"boomed the voice of the Guardian. "The time has come. All will now be explained."

"Well, if you'll pardon the pun," McCoy said harshly as he came to join the others, "it's about time!"

"Time, to me, is as irrelevant as it is relevant," replied the Guardian imperiously.

McCoy shot a glance in Spock's direction. "You know, Spock, you make more sense than this thing does."

Spock decided with some uncertainty that McCoy's staement was intended as a compliment and nodded silently in thanks.

"Please be silent," instructed the Guardian. "The missions have been completed, time has been resolved within itself. All that remains is for you all to be resolved back into your own universe."

"Missions?" Uhura asked of no one in particular.

"Resolved?" wondered McCoy.

"Those you call Saavik, Spock and Metcalfe have been making use of me to restore time to its proper order." Uhura and Chekov both raised very imitative eyebrows at Spock. "They have put right the anomalies which kept this universe separate—apart from true reality. Your life-paths will now continue as they were intended to—with certain crucial differences."

"'True reality?'" demanded Chekov. "What the hell is going on?"

"All of you," explained the Guardian, "save the being Spock, are parts of a universe which was deliberately created—"

"This universe was _created_?" asked McCoy, incredulous.

"Yes. Intentionally created by making three simple alterations in the flow of events. Created for one purpose: to restore the mind of James T. Kirk."

Spock began to ask how the Guardian's created universe had accomplished such a task but was distracted by the look of dawning realization on Saavik's face. "Of course," she said under her breath, "the mind meld."

The Guardian heard her. "Exactly, Saavik. In this universe, James Kirk was threatened by an intelligence which might have forced his consciousness permanently into non-being. Through your mind meld with him, he learned a vital lesson. He learned that he had begun to lose ground in his fight for life. He had lost the vital human quality of hope. His mind, had it been subjected to excessive pressure, would have ceased to function on a rational level. You, Saavik, together with the creature you called 'the cloud,' restored his sanity. You gave him back his strength of will and command.

"In what we call the real universe, his mind had not yet been restored when it was forced to face the death and re-birth of his closest friend, the murder of his son, and the destruction of his ship. James Kirk, in that universe, went insane. Now, the restored James Kirk will become a part of his counterpart in the real universe, and he will be prepared to face the trials ahead of him, to endure the pain few minds were meant to endure. He will hope—and thus, he will survive."

"Guardian," Uhura asked, "you refer to the 'real universe.' If we return to it, what will happen to this universe?"

"Your universe no longer exists," it said simply. "You are the only remnants. Signal your vessel, if you wish—it will not be there."

Uhura did so, playing anxiously with her communicator for a moment. "He's not kidding," she announced. "The _Enterprise_ is gone."

"You will all return now to your futures—through me."

"Before we do," said McCoy, "I want one question answered: Who is responsible for creating this universe?"

"The being you encountered earlier, the cloud which restored James Kirk."

"You mean the thing that destroyed the _Excalibur_ , " McCoy corrected harshly.

"It did, indeed, destroy the starship _Excalibur_ —in order to set up the proper scenario in which to restore Kirk's mind—but _Excalibur_ now functions again in this new universe."

"The cloud," Saavik said to herself, "is the entity which altered the minds of David, Admiral Morrow, and Dr. McCoy."

"It did," said the Guardian. "It also prevented the Genesis planet from degenerating as it should have. This universe has been, for all practical purposes, an entirely artificial construct. Only you have been your true selves."

"A massive _Kobayashi-Maru_ test," Metcalfe murmured.

"If you wish to understand it that way. James Kirk was finally made to take the test of death and pass it on legitimate terms. The experiences he—and all of you—have undergone here have irrevocably changed your life-paths."

"But why," Uhura asked, "did we have to keep all of this from Jim?" Chekov started at her use of the word "we," but said nothing.

"To protect his mind. The mind—the sanity—is a fragile thing. If James Kirk had known of the plan to restore him, it would have been unsuccessful."

Now Chekov asked, "Did you realize thet you nearly drove him med in the process?"

"His mind is quite undamaged," replied the Guardian. "It is extremely resilient now that its strength has been returned."

Chekov looked at his two companions. "You both knew? Em I the only one you kept in the dark?"

Uhura grinned. "No, Pavel. I didn't know any of this. Scotty only told me that he planted the jammers. No real reasons why."

"Scotty?" he demanded, "I "thought Dr. McCoy did it!"

"No," sighed McCoy. "I only tried to keep Jim away from here. It might have worked if he hadn't been every bit as stubborn and mutinous as his two junior officers." He winked at Saavik and Metcalfe. Then he looked to Spock. "Sorry—it didn't work."

"Quite all right, Doctor," Spock replied. "As you said, it was a difficult task."

"All this leaves me with only one question," McCoy said to the Guardian, "why? Why did that 'cloud' create an entire universe just to help Jim? And you must have had a hand in this, Guardian. Why did you allow it when you knew of the damages it might cause?"

"Because none of the damages would be permanent. Only the advantages will last."

McCoy's question had intrigued Spock, and it hadn't been answered to his satisfaction.

He pressed the Guardian further. "Guardian, you have never involved yourself personally in the affairs of other life-forms. Why would you involve yourself for the sake of one man? You who have watched entire civilizations fall to ruin?"

"Because it was necessary. The reasons are beyond your capability to understand."

Spock had spent years among humans, and he had learned to detect an evasive answer when one was given. He detected one now, but he would let the matter rest—for the moment.

"I don't believe we will be given any further answers," he said to the others.

"Indeed," confirmed the Guardian. "The time for talk is over. You must now take your proper places in time. Dr. McCoy, Commander Uhura, Commander Chekov," it called as if reading a list of attendance, "you will take your captain and enter the gateway. You will be reconciled with your own present time."

"Guardian," McCoy began angrily, obviously still dissatisfied with the information the machine/being had presented.

"No further questions!" the voice snapped. "You will go through now."

McCoy glared at the open portal as if it were a human face—or perhaps a Vulcan one, judging by his expression—and finally turned to help Chekov collect Kirk's inanimate body. The Guardian had stopped the conversation at the proper time, for Spock could see that Kirk was beginning to recover from the phaser stun. His eyes were beginning to open slightly.

They carried him to the entrance, hesitating only briefly to say their goodbyes to the others. Uhura followed immediately behind them. She turned as she was about to go through and smiled at Spock. "Goodbye, Mr. Spock. See you soon."

Spock nodded and smiled slightly in return. "I shall await our meeting with pleasure, Ms. Uhura."

All four passed through into their new universe.

Saavik and Metcalfe came forward to join Spock at the Guardian. He had noted with interest that the young human had gone immediately to stand with Saavik upon their return from the past. Obviously, Dr. McCoy had not been mistaken about Metcalfe's emotions for her. But then, McCoy was rarely mistaken about matters of emotion.

"And now," announced the Guardian, "it is time for you to return. Saavik, Metcalfe, each of you must return to the beginning of your missions to the past, allowing your present selves to integrate with your past ones. Spock, since you have no past self in this time period, you will return for your rebirth—at the end of the _Katra_ ritual. I will present the past to you now, and you will each step through at my command."

Fascinating! The first time they had encountered the Guardian, it had refused to aid them in their leaps backward in time. Spock had used his tricorder to calculate the proper times to step through, but the results had been in error by a period of weeks. Now, it offered to aid them in returning to the exact moment they needed. Why was it suddenly so cooperative? Spock had always assumed it was a being ruled by logic, but now it was behaving with emotional unpredictability. He would find time to question it before he left, he hoped.

In the portal, the Guardian was beginning to present the events of the immediate past again. It began with the _Reliant's_ first attack on the _Enterprise_. Spock felt the surge of pain again as he watched his cadets, injured and dying during the surprise attack. He knew that, for Saavik, the most painful event was coming soon. He could read in her face that she was trying to control the grief that threatened to possess her.

In the engine room, Peter Preston, Scotty's nephew and Saavik's first human friend, was inhaling the coolant gas that would cause his death. He knew that the gas was flooding the sealed compartment he worked in, but he also knew that he must remain at his station. Saavik was blinking back the tears she had surely wept that day too, but had kept Spock from seeing.

Her face was becoming tense, and her hands were trembling as she fought for control.

Suddenly, as if no longer ruled by her own will, she began to advance on the Guardian.

He could tell that she meant to step through—to somehow try to save her friend. Her mind was not working rationally. Spock knew he must stop her, but Terry Metcalfe reached her first.

Grasping Saavik's arm, he said quietly, "We don't have that prerogative, Saavik."

Saavik halted and, after a moment, faced Terry. He moved his hand down to clutch hers, which he squeezed tightly. Spock was grateful for his presence. He provided the emotional support which Spock himself would not know how to give.

As the two retreated a few steps from the portal, Spock returned his gaze to the events presented before them. The Guardian's view of history had moved on now to the arrival of the _Enterprise_ at Regulus. Within the asteroid, Jim Kirk was patiently waiting for the ship to effect repairs on her transporter system.

Waiting less patiently, his son David Marcus was speaking to Saavik. Spock could see now what he had had no time to notice before: the young scientist and his protege had developed a considerable attraction for each other there, in the fields of the first Genesis world. Again he looked at Saavik, and again she was fighting to control her grief, knowing that David must soon die in saving her own life.

Terry Metcalfe also noticed the tears on Saavik's face—perhaps he would have noticed them even if they hadn't been there. He was a perceptive human. His own pain at the thought of Saavik's loss began to show on his face. He turned to the Guardian. "Must David Marcus die?" he asked in an unsteady voice.

Spock saw Saavik's hand tighten over Terry's. He wondered if she were allowing their thoughts to meet through the physical contact, or at least if she was reading Terry's. She seemed to understand what he was offering.

"It is fated," replied the Guardian.

Terry swallowed. "Could another—"

Saavik clasped his shoulder with her free hand, shaking her head. She repeated his earlier words. "We do not have that prerogative, Terry."

"Saavik—" he protested.

She tightened her grip further. "No, don't speak. What must be will be. We cannot change time."

With typical human stubbornness, Metcalfe began to speak again, but halted as Saavik stroked his hand with two fingers. Finally, he nodded. Spock was certain now that she was allowing at least minimal contact between their minds, for Terry seemed to be responding to unspoken words. McCoy had been correct: Terry Metcalfe's feelings for Saavik _were_ returned.

Both of them knew of love—and sacrifice. Saavik had allowed the death of the first man she had loved in her short life. Terry was offering his own life in order to prevent that death. His own love for Saavik would see him die to_let her have another. Spock felt a very un-Vulcan pride in his former students sweep over him.

Saavik had released Terry's shoulder, but still held his hand. She smiled at him. "I took my chance while I had it. I do not regret that."

Spock watched the time portal in fascination as his own death was played before them. What a strange sensation it was, to see oneself die as a third party! He felt appreciation and satisfaction as he watched his friends' memorial services for him, although it was embarrassing to have others watch with him.

He almost laughed—in fact, he had to fight not to—when Jim called him "the most human." Saavik's raised eyebrow was to be expected; she couldn't understand, after all, that this was a gesture of tribute. He looked to the present-day Saavik to see if perhaps she understood now. She was not raising her eyebrow, anyway.

Quickly, the funeral was over, and the Guardian announced, "It is time, Metcalfe. You must step through." Spock noted that the Guardian had ceased the play of events. Was it actually freezing time for them while they stepped through? Fascinating!

Terry Metcalfe began to approach the Guardian, still holding Saavik's hand. "Should I take a chance while I have it?" he asked her. Spock wasn't sure exactly what "chance" he referred to.

Saavik must have known, however, for she replied, "It is often advisable. Chances may only come once."

Terry gathered her other hand in his, stroking the fingers as she had his in the accepted Vulcan gesture of affection. Slowly, he leaned toward her and, in a very human gesture, he kissed her. Saavik responded eagerly.

They drew back, still holding hands. "When we meet again—" he said.

"We will," Saavik assured him.

Terry nodded. "It will be as… friends."

"We shall see to it."

"I don't believe time will make me forget you." His voice was breaking.

"That is illogical," Saavik observed, but her face held a smile and her voice rang with laughter.

"Love is illogical," he countered gently.

"Perhaps," Saavik agreed, seriously now, "but I have discovered that it is… " she smiled again, "necessary."

They drew their hands apart, and Terry faced Spock. It occurred to him that not once had either of the young officers looked to him to see if he disapproved of their emotional display. Again, he was proud. Terry held his hand up in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper. Captain," he said.

Spock returned the gesture. "And you, Lieutenant. I have no doubt but that we shall meet again."

"You can bet on it."

"Had I the opportunity," Spock said, "I would." He allowed himself a smile at Metcalfe's look of pleasant surprise and Saavik's of utter shock.

With a final glance at Saavik, Terry Metcalfe stepped through the waiting portal.

The picture in the gateway resumed, and they watched as the crew of the _Enterprise_ gathered for a wake in honor of Spock and Peter Preston. Spock graciously turned away as the events of that night in Saavik's quarters—her first physical union with David—played out. That was a night for Saavik's memories alone, and he would not intrude.

He looked at her instead, and could see that her mind was still a chaos of uncontrolled emotion. He wished in vain that there were some way he could help, but he could not offer her the support that Terry had been able to give. And he certainly couldn't offer her the assistance of his own mind in controlling her emotions as he used to do. She was not a child anymore; it would not be proper.

When the Guardian announced that it was Saavik's time, and once again froze the time flow, she turned to Spock. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable in his presence now. Despite their many years together, she didn't seem to know what to say to him anymore. Perhaps, if he were to speak first… "May I compliment you, Saavik, on your behavior in this situation? You handled your tasks with the utmost efficiency." He spoke formally, as if offering congratulations to a colleague at the Vulcan Academy.

"I have behaved emotionally," she said, as if in denial.

"And yet you did not let your emotions rule you. You tempered them with logic. That is precisely what I have always hoped to teach you."

Her eyebrow rose. "You do not disapprove?"

"You have learned how to communicate with human beings. You have learned how to love. You have learned… to be happy," he pointed out. "To disapprove would be illogical. Rather, I am proud."

Fighting the immediate impulse to take her gaze from his, Saavik touched his fingers. "I am pleased, my teacher, my friend."

He maintained the contact for a brief moment, saying in her mind, _Take care, my student, my child. I shall see you again._

Saavik nodded happily and withdrew her fingers, breaking their mental link. She walked silently to the time portal and stepped through with a single, backward glance to him. She smiled at him; it had been many years since she had done so.

But when she walked through the gateway, she did not disappear into the past.

She emerged, instead, on the other side of the Guardian. "I do not understand," she said.

Spock thought over the events he had. seen and nodded. "I believe I do."

The Guardian spoke up. "Perhaps you do to an extent. They are joined. They cannot be separated."

He had been correct. "In the physical and mental joining of their beings—"

"Their time paths have merged. He must be brought here."

Understanding flashed across Saavik's face. "David?"

Spock nodded. "A mental link is not easy to control, Saavik. You know this, of course. The link has become too deep. You and David have shared too much. He knows of his fate."

"The universe will not be reconciled until he has been united with time," the Guardian announced. At its center, lights and colors began to swirl about. They coalesced into the figure of David Marcus. He did not move; he was not aware of his surroundings.

Saavik attempted to speak to him, calling his name, but he did not respond. She went forward as if to touch him, but the Guardian commanded, "Do not interfere!"

"What is wrong with him?" she demanded.

"His consciousness will not register here. He is an anachronism. He has no place in time."

Spock saw guilt in Saavik's eyes. "I have done this to him?"

"It could not have been avoided," the Guardian said, but that seemed to be of little comfort to Saavik. "There is only one way in which this may be reconciled."

"Indeed," Spock asked, "how?"

"The process is beyond your capability to understand."

"Will you harm him?" Saavik asked it.

"I will do what I must," replied the Guardian. Saavik moved forward in protest, only to be stopped by Spock's restraining hand on her arm.

 _It must be done, Saavik,_ he told her as their mental link re-established itself. She stood still in mute acceptance as the Guardian began to act. Inside its portal, images began to flow by—too quickly for their eyes. to register any single one. Spock got the distinct impression that all of time was playing out before their eyes.

As the images progressed, David's body seemed to fade, losing first its color, then its opacity. By the time the events were finished, he could no longer be seen. He was gone.

Saavik's face showed blank horror. "Where is he?"

"Everywhere," it responded, "and nowhere. He is a part of what was—what is—what will be. He is one with time. Go now, Saavik." Was there a touch of gentility behind that voice that hadn't been there before?

Saavik hesitated, looking to Spock. "Go," he said. "There is nothing more to be done here."

Silently, she advanced to the portal and stepped through. Around her, the lights and colors played again. For a moment they seemed to come together and form a shape—the shape of something Spock had seen the likes of only once, many years ago…

For a moment, within the Guardian, he thought he saw a dragon.

Again, the Guardian resumed its display of time. When it came to the _katra_ ritual however, and cleared the portal for Spock's entry, he did not move.

"Why do you hesitate?" it asked.

"You have not answered the questions put to you. Why?"

"They are irrelevant. Go!"

Spock noted the anger in the disembodied voice. "And… if I refuse?"

"You must not."

"I do," he said flatly.

The Guardian spoke again, but this time he detected that same quality in its voice, that quality he had noticed with Saavik. "Please, Mr. Spock. Go!"

The tone was becoming familiar. He knew it. "David?"

The machine did not respond.

"If you do not answer," he maintained, "I shall not go through."

"Very well," said the voice—David's voice, "I am here."

Spock nodded. "And you are the Guardian?"

"We are one."

"I see."

"Do you understand now the reason we went to this effort for Jim?"

"I believe I do," Spock admitted. "But I would like you to state it nonetheless."

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked bitterly. "Jim Kirk was going mad. He lost his ship, he lost you, his career was over. I owed him my help. Just as I owed restitution for the other damage I had caused."

"I do not understand," Spock said. "What damage did you cause?"

"I used protomatter in the Genesis matrix. If I hadn't, the project would never have become fully functional. But it did become functional—prematurely. If I hadn't been so impatient, _Reliant_ would never have gone to Ceti Alpha V, Khan would never have been freed. The crew at Regula… " the voice broke, "…my friends, would not have been slaughtered. I was the cause of all that happened."

"One man cannot know the outcome of his actions. You acted from noble intentions," Spock protested.

"Noble intentions!" the voice was riddled with sarcasm. Spock found it disconcerting to hear such emotion coming from the Guardian. "I acted from stupidity!"

"And yet you were not driven by selfishness," Spock countered. "I do not believe that Saavik could love a selfish being."

"But she did!" David cried. "Even in death, I hurt her. After I had already taken you from her, and Peter Preston… I even took myself away. I died because of my own creation!" He laughed harshly. "Dr. Frankenstein… destroyed by his own creation!" He was silent for a moment. "I couldn't allow all of that to go uncorrected. I had to do something."

"David, how could you have had the power? Until now, you were not part of the Guardian."

"You must understand the nature of the Guardian, Mr. Spock. It does not exist in any one time period, but in all, simultaneously. Now that I am a part of it, I can see the past and the future. I exist after my own death, and before my own birth. I can change any part of history."

"You are immortal?" Spock asked.

"I am. The man David Marcus is but a temporary residence—a shell—a tiny piece of the being I have become… and always have been. I can see all the damage that he —I—have done."

Now it all made sense. He saw why the Guardian had been so insistent. Why it had tried to hide the truth. Why it had allowed time to be changed. And, oddly, all had come full circle. If this universe hadn't been created, David would never have become part of the Guardian. And, if David had not been part of the Guardian, this universe never could have been created. There was the paradox.

"But what about 'the cloud?' Why did it help you? What is it?"

"A very advanced being with powers beyond your imagining."

"Is it one of the Guardian's makers? Or part of the Guardian itself?"

"It is both, and neither."

Spock felt frustration building within him. David was taking on the Guardian's mysterious manner of answering questions. "Another riddle?"

"That is the best explanation I can give you… for now. Someday you will be able to understand, Spock. We await that day. In the meantime, it is enough for you to know that you have helped me make up for my mistakes… some of them, anyway."

"That is why you created another universe," Spock finished. "Why you went to all this effort to restore Jim's mind."

"Mainly," replied David's voice quietly. "And also because I'm proud… very proud… to be his son."

The Guardian's familiar voice took over now. "Go now, Mr. Spock. And remember, we will wait."

Spock nodded. The time for questions was through. He stepped through the gateway and into his future.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is again one universe, but Metcalfe has taken steps so that Saavik will remember.

EPILOGUE

David had pillowed his head against Saavik's shoulder and now snored gently in sleep. Saavik had never heard snoring before—she had slept in close proximity only to Vulcans, who did not seem to suffer from the strange affliction.

It made her smile to see him so defenseless—and happy. They had both thoroughly enjoyed their nights together. She reached out to stroke his face gently, taking an irrational pleasure in the coolness of his body… "like lying in the shade on a hot summer's day."

She wondered again what Spock would think of the path she had chosen. He had said he might not approve of her decisions, but would he have approved of this one? Would he have been pleased that she had… fallen in love? And that she had done so with the son of a man Spock had so respected? She would like to think so. She would like to have thought that her happiness was important to him.

And she was happy, happier, perhaps, than she had ever been in her life. But what nagged at the back of her mind? What disturbed her? She had accepted Spock's death now and had convinced herself that the times she had heard his voice calling her were mere dreams, wish-fulfillment and nothing else. Why did she still feel unsettled? She had no need to, for now she understood what Spock had tried to teach her and had never been able to: she understood what love was.

And where and when had she learned that? Here, in this bed? The knowledge had come upon her by surprise. She didn't know exactly when she had figured it all out.

Looking again at David, she sighed, wishing that humans didn't require so much sleep. She would have liked to have spent the entire night testing out "their theory." But humans—males, especially—required rest, and she must not disturb him even though she was too… excited to sleep.

She gazed about her quarters, realizing suddenly how barren they looked. They had not seemed so yesterday, but now, they seemed much too cold and empty. Her only possessions were a handful of books on her shelf—

—where had that come from? She had never seen that book before. Sitting up carefully to avoid disturbing David, she took the paperbound volume from her shelf and looked it over. It was well preserved, but obviously very old. The spine was cracked and somewhat rolled, and the covers on the cover illustrations—once vivid—were dull and faded.

Saavik looked at the title stamped on the front cover. Had she heard of it before? _The Number of the Beast_? No, she had not… How had the book gotten here? Had David left it, perhaps, while she was on the bridge? Probably.

But when she opened it, a note in vivid blue ink, obviously not nearly so old as the book, caught her eye. Her breath caught as she read it:

_Saavik—_

_We will meet again._

_Remember. —T.A.M._

It was addressed to her! But the initials—T.A.M.? She knew of no one with such initials. Obviously, however, someone with those initials knew her, and he said that they would meet again. And what made her assume it was a he?

In the back of her mind, something still nagged her.

Curious, Saavik leaned back and began to read…

* * *

Sitting quietly in his quarters, waiting for Admiral Morrow to find something for a displaced chief helmsman to do, had grown extremely boring. All Terry had been able to do was think of how furious he was at Morrow for decommissioning the _Enterprise_ —the ship he had hoped to be assigned to—and taking Hikaru Sulu's command away from him. And of course, there was the anxiety, the wondering. What would happen now that Hikaru and the others had helped Kirk steal the _Enterprise_? As if they had had any choice! Damn Starfleet anyway!

And so, Terry had come here, to escape the anger and the boredom—to talk to someone. Kevin Carson had been given an assignment here in the main Fleet communications center. It was buzzing right now with ships and stations from all parts of the Federation reporting on a handful of events: a breach of the neutral zone by a Klingon ship which had apparently destroyed an independent merchant vessel, an odd sighting, possibly an explosion, in the restricted Mutara sector, and, of course, frequent questions about _Enterprise_.

When the signal came through, Kevin almost fell out of his seat with excitement. "Communications to _Grissom_ ," he said to the Vulcan woman reporting on the other end. "We've been trying to reach you folks for days! A freighter just picked up a lifeboat with a couple of survivors from a merchant vessel—they claim Klingons raided their ship!"

Terry rolled the name around in his mind… Lt. Saavik from the USS _Grissom_ … It sounded familiar. Kevin continued to talk with her until Morrow himself suddenly was heard over the speaker. "Cut that damned data link! Lt. Saavik! This is Starfleet Commander Morrow. What the hell—"

Terry grimaced at Kevin as he cut the channel. "You don't expect me to listen to Fleet top-secret communications, do you?" Kevin asked with more innocence than he had had the day he was born.

"I was just interested. You might have left the audio on!"

Kevin adopted his usual "who cares" attitude and went back to monitoring channels.

"You know this Saavik?" he asked casually. "Old romantic failure? There have been so many."

Terry ignored the insult, although he had to admit that—judging by Saavik's voice—he might have found her very attractive if he met her in person. "No," he replied, matching Carson's disinterest. "I just thought she had a nice voice. She sounded like someone I could be… friends with. That's all."

Kevin, fortunately, did not question that remark. Terry was grateful, for he wouldn't have been able to explain it for the life of him. He had heard that voice before…

* * *

In the dim light of the Vulcan dawn, Spock scanned the faces around him, trying desperately, Kirk could tell, to remember.

He faced Kirk at last, his face holding decision and childlike determination. "Jim," he said distinctly. "Your name… is _Jim_."

Kirk nodded happily, affirming his friend's statement. "Yes!" The tenseness of the dawn broke, and seven tear-stained faces converged suddenly on the now-restored body of their friend.

As Jim Kirk joined in the happy greetings, his mind could not help but wander over the events of the past day. He thought of David, dead on a world which no longer existed. He thought of the _Enterprise_ , sacrificed in an attempt to turn death into a fighting chance for life.

And yet he felt strong—confident. The anxiety that had nagged him earlier had suddenly vanished. Looking again at the faces of his friends, he realized that he had not lost his command after all. The ship was gone, but they were still with him. And neither Nogura nor Morrow nor any other Starfleet bureaucrat could take them away.

After ten years and three attempts, he had regained the _Enterprise_ once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty clear, reading these final scenes, that I intended to write another novel. My plan was, as soon as Star Trek IV was released, to carry Saavik and Metcalfe's story forward in the "real" universe, if possible. I have no idea, how, what I had in mind. I don't believe I ever wrote a premise or made any notes.   
> But Star Trek IV was released in 1987 and… yes, I can say it now… it disappointed the hell out of me. Saavik disappeared in the first five minutes. Sulu didn't get command of his own ship. Kirk dealt with the loss of his son by clowning around 20th Century San Francisco. And then Star Trek: The Next Generation put the handwriting on the wall that the original Enterprise's voyage was at an end. Ancient history. Irrelevant. There was to be none of the growth of these characters that had been promised when The Wrath of Khan was released five years earlier.   
> Meanwhile, life changed pretty drastically for me. I got engaged, graduated college, got married, got a job. I pretty much forgot about fan fiction and spent my off hours trying to build a professional writing career as a part-time gig. I wrote for Starlog and DC Comics, and actually got paid to write Star Trek.   
> So Saavik and Metcalfe's story was relegated to the back of my filing cabinet and some boxes of unsold zines under my bed.   
> For a while… Then, twelve years later, I decided to finish the story.


End file.
